CSI: Crime Scene Investigation Season 2 REWRITTEN!
by IceGirl2772
Summary: Nick and Kady are back as the CSIs deal with even more startling cases that test everyone's limits and uncover startling secrets about others. Later on, Nick and Kady could find their lives in danger as a stalker makes them his prime targets! But...it's going to take more than that to tear the very close duo apart! Rated T for now. Could be bumped up to M later.
1. Burked

**WHOO HOO! We're back, baby! WITH SEASON TWO!**

**Burked: A man is found dead in his home after an apparent drug overdose. This man is Tony Braun, the son of Sam Braun, one of the biggest moguls in Las Vegas. However, the team begins to suspect murder as they struggle to find any evidence connected to an overdose.**

**Next, Chaos Theory: A university student named Paige Rycoff mysteriously vanishes into thin air. With the circumstances surrounding her disappearance – such as her affair with a married professor and other events – the CSI team begins to suspect foul play. When her body is found in a trash heap, the team now only has one question to answer: what led to her death?**

**Then, Overload: Grissom is convinced a construction worker was electrocuted after he falls from the twelfth story of a construction sight. However, he has to go through a heap of trouble to prove his theory when the evidence doesn't immediately support this and the Sheriff doesn't have a hard time believing that it was a suicide rather than a homicide. Meanwhile, Catherine finds out a startling secret about Nick's past when they work the case of a teenage boy who appears to have died of a grand mal seizure during a therapy session.**

**Later, Bully for You: Everyone begins to think about what they were like in high school when the class clown is discovered dead in the boy's bathroom at a local high school. However, Grissom, Warrick and Catherine soon discover that their victim bullied the majority of their fellow students, giving them a lot of suspects. Meanwhile, a badly decomposed body is found in a leather bag and Sara and Nick have to figure out who this person is and how they died.**

**I own nothing aside from Kady. I don't even own the book mentioned!**

**ENJOY!**

* * *

Two Labrador Retrievers **(AN: Guessing the breed!)** ran out of the gate barking and whimpering towards the gardener who had just climbed out of his Black Chevy truck and was getting his tools out and ready for the day.

"Hey. How'd you guys get out?" he asked as they ran back towards the gate.

The gardener knew that something was up – that the dogs were trying to tell him something. Immediately, he ran through the gate towards the back glass door where the dogs were barking and whimpering.

"What's the matter, boys? Easy, hey," he coxed.

However, when he peered through the glass door, his face was immediately filled with horror and surprise. And that horrific surprise…

Was a dead body.

* * *

When Catherine finally made her way through the swarming news reporters and paparazzi, she was surprised when the officer stopped her at the door. When she looked down, they saw why. Grissom was on his hands and knees with his face close to the ground as he shone his flashlight across the carpet. He was looking for something.

"Have you been inside?" Catherine asked as she knelt down slowly and took off her sunglasses, "What have you got?"

Slowly, Grissom picked up whatever he was looking for. Once he made sure he had it, he handed it to the detective that was standing by. It was a contact lens.

"There you go, detective," Grissom said as he handed the lens over to him.

"Thanks. Little tired this morning. Pulling a double," the detective explained sheepishly.

"Yeah. Join the club," Catherine remarked as she and Grissom rose to their feet.

"Good morning, Catherine," Grissom greeted.

"Good morning, Gil. So, this is Tony Braun's house. Son of Sam Braun," Catherine observed as they walked further into the house.

"He was Steve Wynn before Steve Wynn," Grissom remarked.

"Oh yeah. You bet your ass," Catherine agreed as she slid her gloves onto her hands, "Sam came to Vegas when Vegas was dying. Built three casinos in a year. Had ties to Bugsy Siegel."

"Wish I had Tony Braun's gardener working for me," Brass remarked as Grissom and Catherine met him in the living room, "Guy sniffed it out from the jump. Blinds were drawn shut. Side gate unlocked. Dogs let out. A plus B plus C equals 911."

"All seems very neat and peaceful. Doesn't it?" Grissom stated as Catherine picked up a piece of foil that is used for the drugs.

"Chasing the dragon. A pinch of H. Heat the foil. Inhale the fumes," Catherine explained.

"With a Xanax back," Grissom piped in as he picked up a pill bottle that was nearby, "100 pills. Prescription filled yesterday."

"So the rumours of ol' Tony are true. Drug overdose," Brass sighed.

"It sure seems that way," Catherine agreed.

"If only life were that simple," Grissom shook his head.

Insert title credits here

"Eight rolls. Two copies. Case is hot. Put a rush on it," Sara requested to the courier as she handed the film to him.

"OK," the courier nodded as he ran out.

"Lose an earring?" Sara asked as she picked up an earring backing.

"Looks like somebody did," Grissom remarked as he noticed the clear sticky goo on Tony's wrist, "He's got adhesive residue on his wrists."

"He was restrained. Some sort of tape," Sara surmised.

"Well, that would be the obvious," Grissom said.

"Braun had company," Sara realized.

"Welcome…or unwelcome?" Grissom pondered.

"Where's the purge? Car blows its engine, there's an oil leak. A guy ODs, where's the body fluid? Urine, vomit, excrement," Sara demanded.

"Did somebody clean him up?" Grissom mused.

"Interesting love bites on the chest," Sara observed as she saw the three red marks on his chest.

"Curious, isn't it?" Grissom smirked.

"And he's posed!" Sara gasped…before realizing what Grissom was trying to tell her, "When did you knew this was a homicide and not an OD?"

"Initially?" Grissom pressed, earning a 'yeah' from Sara, "When I saw the TV on."

* * *

Catherine smiled as she walked past the back gate of the residence and saw Nick knelt down with the dogs playing with them and petting them vigorously. When she slid her gloves on, Nick noticed Catherine's presence and smiled up at her. Catherine had to admit. While his daughter is a carbon copy of her mother, Kady inherited her adorableness from her father. And that was proven with how adorable Nick looked with that smile of his and the glasses he wore.

"Well, I'll tell you one thing – if those were my dogs, I wouldn't be leaving this gate open," Catherine remarked.

"Yeah. You're talking about a dog owner on heroin. How responsible can he be?" Nick asked.

"Gardener said it was the first time in five years that he'd found this gate unlocked," Catherine told him.

"What's so different about this morning?" Nick wanted to know.

"Last morning of Tony Braun's life? Well, either somebody inside the house opened it, or somebody had a key because this lock hasn't been forced. There's no pry marks. No metal shavings," Catherine observed.

"So…why was this gate open?" Nick pondered.

That was when he began looking around. Looking for a certain four-year-old girl that would provide some answer to this question like she had been doing since she was born. However, Nick's heart sunk as he remembered that Kady was at school now. After all, he had dropped her off this morning.

"You still look for her?" Catherine asked, earning a nod from Nick.

"She's been at school for a few weeks now. I don't get why I still look for her," Nick sighed sadly.

"Nick, for over four years, you've always had her by your side at crime scenes. It's going to take some getting used to," Catherine told him, "You'll get her back at the end of the day. And she's safe."

* * *

"A heroin addict's confetti. Nothing like going on a binge," Warrick remarked as he picked up a single, empty open small red balloon with his forceps, "Black tar heroin. This is the difference between a Cadillac and a Pinto."

"How would you know?" Brass wanted to know.

"It's my job," Warrick answered as he placed the balloon on the dresser where he found it, "I count at least six balloons and that's just in the bedroom. The dealer must have come down the chimney. It's like Christmas in July here. Not that Braun even needed anymore drugs."

"Yeah. Looks like the guy had a pill for everything. Can you get a print off those balloons?" Brass asked.

"I can get a print off the air," Brass retorted.

"Any luck?" Grissom asked as he met Sara in the kitchen.

"I have gone through every garbage can in the house," Sara answered, signifying that she couldn't find anything.

"What about the cans outside?" Grissom questioned.

"First thing I checked. Zip," Sara told him before left.

When Sara checked the next bin that was full, she pulled out all kinds of objects that weren't repeating. One thing she did find was a not-so-empty packet of Saltine Crackers. When she shook the packet, she heard something rattle inside of it. When she pulled the object out with forceps, she was amazed.

It was silver duct tape.

* * *

Nick walked along the back of the house. With a high profile case like this, the CSIs and detectives had to be thorough with everything they do and make sure they do everything right. The eyes of Las Vegas were on them and there could be a negative impact on the police department if they accidentally do something that could cause the case to go downhill. When he reached the doggie door, he stopped to scratch his left ankle. Something had bitten him. He just didn't know what.

That was when he noticed it.

The doggie door was unlocked. This confused him…until he tried the actual doorknob. Locked. Thinking that this could be useful, he grabbed his kit and printed the entire section.

He could be onto something.

* * *

"Hey, Doc," Grissom greeted as he walked into the autopsy room.

"Leg fell asleep," Doc Robbins said sheepishly as he placed his leg back on and they moved towards the body, "I always wondered which one of us coroners would get to carve Tony. His lifestyle was no secret – sex, drugs and a big bankroll. No needle marks on his arms. The guy plays golf; short-sleeved shirts. Checked between the toes…groin area. Whatever he did went up his nose. His nasal cavity looks like raw hamburger."

"These abrasions around his mouth? What? Hard to shave when you're stoned?" Grissom joked.

"Or they're pressure marks. For example, if someone places a pillow or object against someone's nose and mouth in the climate of struggle," Robbins shrugged.

"Petechial haemorrhaging? Also suggestive of suffocation," Grissom pointed out.

"Not always," Doc Robbins shook his head in disagreement, "For as much as pathology is an absolute science, it isn't. Vessels can rupture under innocent circumstances such as a violent cough."

"These three circular red marks on his chest? They're not bug bites," Grissom observed.

"No neurotoxins present but that's not to say some overanxious paramedic trying to save a legend's life didn't cause them in the moment," Doc Robbins said.

"CPR wasn't performed," Grissom protested.

"Then I don't know what they are," Doc Robbins admitted.

"It's hard to OD just inhaling heroin. I know he was restrained which leads me to believe that someone forced him to ingest lethal amounts of heroin and Xanax," Grissom stated.

* * *

"Excuse me," the shrill voice of Janine Haywood rang through the house as she marched inside, "Boy, are you lucky my lawyer's on a golf course. I've been standing out here, in the heat for hours, answering these stupid questions. Here's your answer, OK. This is my house. OK? This is half my house anyway."

"Who's this?" Catherine asked as Janine began walking around with a video camera.

"It's Braun's squeeze. She's an ex-stripper too. Perhaps you two met in a professional capacity," Brass shrugged, casually referencing to the fact that Catherine is a former exotic dancer.

"These are my things!" Janine protested.

"And, uh, where has she been the past 21 hours?" Catherine demanded.

"Oh my God!" Janine exclaimed.

"Uh, let's see," Brass said as he pulled out his notebook and flipped a few pages, "Quote. Out. End quote. When Tony's drug dealer showed up, she split. She slept at a friend's house. She didn't like the way Tony acted when he was cruising on magic carpets," Brass answered.

"Listen. If anything is missing from this house, I'm going to add you to my lawyer's to sue list," Janine threatened as she pointed the camcorder to Brass and Catherine.

"Why don't you just put the camera away before you get arrested?" Brass suggested as he pushed the camcorder down.

"You can't arrest me in my own house!" Janine protested.

"Right now, your house is our crime scene. And we can do whatever we want and that includes fingerprinting you," Catherine retorted as she prepared to fingerprint Janine.

"Why? Didn't do anything?" Janine scoffed.

"Thumb to pinkie," Catherine instructed as she placed her finger pads into the ink and pressed them onto the paper.

"I just lost my boyfriend, OK? You're a woman. I'm just looking out for my end here, you know? Things start to disappear. If Tony were here right now, he'd tell you himself. 'Just make sure Janine's taken care of,'" Janine boasted to them.

"That's a lawyer's call," Brass objected.

"Hey! I'm in the will!" Janine scoffed.

"Of course you are," Catherine rolled her eyes.

* * *

"Can I help you?" the receptionist of the Tangiers asked Catherine as she approached the desk.

"Yeah. Is Sam Braun in?" Catherine asked.

"He's not seeing anyone today," she answered.

"Would you let him know that Catherine Willows is here to see him?" Catherine requested kindly.

Immediately, the receptionist passed the message along through the computer and waited until she got a response over her headset. She – like everyone else in the casino – knew who Catherine Willows was and how important she was to Sam Braun.

"Just one second please," the receptionist requested as she walked off.

Not long after the receptionist left Catherine standing there, an old man with hair white as snow walked up behind her. Catherine didn't notice his presence until he used his special nickname for her,

"Mugs?"

Catherine immediately turned around and a smile lit her face like a light bulb. Sam Braun was standing there. She didn't hesitate to walk up to him and give him a hug.

Before they knew it, they were walking arm-in-arm across along the casino hall chatting about old memories they share and the recent events that had brought them here.

"I remember the first time I saw you. You didn't have any clothes on," Sam recalled.

"Yeah. Well, that was a long time ago," Catherine laughed.

"I would've taken you home right then if I could have," Sam remarked.

"I know. But you were married and I was a baby. It never would've worked. Sam…how are you holding up?" Catherine asked worriedly.

Before he can answer her question, however, Sam's other son, Walt Braun, appeared before them.

"Hey, dad. I got the press clogging up valet. Should I call security or just handle it or what?" walt asked.

"I'll take care of it. You go back to the put. Make sure nobody's robbing us blind," Sam instructed as he led Catherine away.

One of the first things he did was take her to the restaurant and buy her a drink. Since she got her job at the Crime Lab, the whole Eddie dilemma and the time she spends with Kady and Lindsey, they hardly get to spend time with each other. So each moment they share is to be cherished.

"You know, back in, uh…in '67, I was in my 20s and…I was drinking in a dive in downtown Buffalo. At the end of the bar was this pro quarterback drinking double scotches, two at a time, midnight to seven in the morning. It's Sunday, game day, mind you. So you know what I did? Called my bookie, bet against him. Guess what? I'll be damned if he didn't throw six touchdown passes," Sam recalled.

"Yeah…sounds like Tony," Catherine chuckled.

"You know, even when Tony was juicing he could run circles around these college, Harvard types. And I'm not saying that just because he was my kid. Tony was the best damn casino exec this town has ever seen and just between you and me…I couldn't hold a candle to him," Sam confessed, "Now he's dead. Overdose."

"Sam…the bigger the pedestal, the bigger the target," Catherine recited.

"Nobody shoots at that target without going through me," Sam protested, his fatherly instincts coming to light which caused Catherine to smile as it reminded her of how Nick gets when Kady's in danger.

"Well, that's business. What about personal?" Catherine asked.

"What do you mean?" Sam demanded.

"Did you ever talk to Tony about any of his girlfriends?" Catherine rephrased.

"Which one? I mean, they were all trying to pick the gold out of his teeth," Sam pointed out.

"Janine Haywood," Catherine said.

"She's the worst. And he loved her the most. Can you believe that?" Sam scoffed.

"Yeah. I do," Catherine nodded.

"If I know her type, now that she has the gold, she'll be going after the silver," Sam remarked.

* * *

When Grissom had gotten the fingerprints off of the prescription bottle, he and Catherine began comparing the prints on the bottle against the prints from both Tony's and Janine's ten-cards.

"OK. On the left, Braun prints we got from the coroner and on the right, gold digger prints I got from Janine Haywood," Catherine explained.

"Here's where it gets interesting. I took six prints off this bottle," Grissom began.

"And?" Catherine pressed.

"They all belong to one person," Grissom finished.

"Good thing or…bad thing?" Catherine wanted to know.

"It's good if you're us…," Grissom trailed off as he turned the print 180 degrees and showed her the match, "Bad if you're Janine Haywood."

* * *

"Have you seen Brass?" Warrick asked as they met up in the hallway.

"Not tonight, no. Why?" Grissom demanded.

"Oh. Print off air. Orange balloon. Cyanoacrylate. Dead bang, drug dealer," Warrick said as he walked off.

Grissom continued to walk down the hallway…until he almost walked into Sara who was carrying the duct tape she collected from the kitchen garbage bin.

"Ooh, ooh, watch it! Evidence!" Sara cried.

"Where did you get it?" Grissom asked.

"Cracker box. It was all stuck together, muckety-muck. I don't want to ruin any potential prints. But I saw this TV dinner commercial and it hit me. I'm going to put it in the freezer," Sara decreed.

Grissom just shook his head and walked towards his intended destination: break room. When he walked in, he saw Nick working **(AN: *****cough***** Moping! *****cough*****) **on something at the desk.

"Did you try this coffee?" Grissom asked, earning a hum from Nick that translated to no, "The last cup I had tasted like motor oil."

"Oh, don't touch it! That's my pot!" Greg Sanders cried as he ran in to stop Grissom from using his coffee mug.

"Your pot?" Grissom repeated.

"Yeah. You know, from my own private stash," Greg nodded as he picked up his coffee bag, "Blue Hawaiian - $40 a pound. Only grown a couple times a year on the Big Island. Handpicked to perfection."

"Good. You're using my water. So I guess that makes it community coffee," Grissom retorted as he poured himself a cup, "You want a cup, Nick?"

"No thanks," Nick shook his head as he scratched his leg.

"What's the matter with your leg?" Grissom asked.

"I don't know, man. Something back at that house must have bit me," Nick answered as he soaked a cotton wipe with rubbing alcohol.

"Oh. Is that alcohol on a bug bite? That's like butter on burns, man. Wives' tale," Greg remarked.

"Yeah. This is the guy who told me to put haemorrhoid cream on my acne," Nick retorted.

"It worked, didn't it?" Greg smirked.

"This is pretty good," Grissom remarked about the coffee as he bent down to look at Nick's leg, "Let me see the bite before you get gangrene. …Chigger bite."

"Yeah?" Nick pressed.

"Probably picked it up walking through the ferns in Braun's backyard. See if Catherine's got some clear nail polish. It'll seal it off from the air, keep it from itching," Grissom instructed, "Ah…whatever happened with that doggy door?"

"Something definitely two-legged went through it. Got mostly partials. Print lab's working on it now," Nick answered.

"Be sure to check it against Janine Haywood's prints," Grissom instructed, earning a nod to Nick before noticing that Greg was walking in a circle as if he was a dog chasing his own tail, "What are you looking for?"

"My kjemisk prinsesse," Greg pouted.

"Don't you start. It's bad enough with Father of the Year over there," Grissom remarked.

"Hey!" Nick protested, "I'm not that bad!"

"You've spent most of the shift moping!" Grissom retorted before walking out of the break room with his coffee cup.

* * *

"Braun's stomach contents," Doc Robbins introduced Grissom and Catherine to the brown liquid in a clear container, "No food. Plenty of drugs."

"Xanax?" Grissom guessed.

"And heroin," Doc Robbins nodded.

"I thought he inhaled it," Catherine recalled.

"Inhaled and ingested," Doc Robbins corrected.

"He ate it?!" Catherine repeated in disbelief.

"Got there somehow," Doc Robbins shrugged.

"Where are all the undissolved pills?" Grissom asked.

"Didn't find any," Doc Robbins answered.

"Most OD's die before digestion's complete, right?" Grissom questioned.

"My guess. Someone mashed up the Xanax, dissolved them in red wine, which I did find," Doc Robbins guessed.

"OK. So what do we know that we can write home about?" Grissom wanted to know.

"Well, Braun was a heroin addict using heavy before he died which means he was probably meek as a lamb," Catherine remarked.

"Wouldn't have taken much to bind his hands with duct tape," Grissom pointed out.

"And make him drink hemlock. It's a lot easier to pour liquid down a guy's throat than it is to make him swallow a hundred pills," Catherine stated.

"It wasn't a hundred pills," Doc Robbins shook his head.

"How many?" Grissom demanded.

"Educated, unofficial guess: no more than fifty," Doc Robbins shrugged.

* * *

"Based on your pupes, I could take you in right now," Brass remarked as he talked to a drug dealer named Skinny in the alleyway.

"Hey, man. I'm in mourning. It's tears you see. I lost a customer. It's like losing my job, kind of!" Skinny defended himself.

"You're Braun's grocery store," Warrick said.

"But I deliver," Skinny smirked.

"When did you last deliver?" Brass asked.

"Night before he croaked. About nine o'clock. Ask his woman. She's fine too," Skinny answered.

"Well, she told us as soon as you got there, she left," Brass recalled Janine's statement.

"Oh, she didn't go that fast. I dropped off some balloons, Braun paid me, she gave me a tip," Skinny explained.

"What? Shave the soul patch?" Brass joked.

"No. Thirty Xanadus," Skinny boasted.

"Xanax?" Warrick repeated.

* * *

"I told you I dropped them in the bathroom sink!" Janine protested.

"First time I heard that," Brass remarked.

"Look. I took two, gave Tony two and I accidentally dropped fifteen or twenty down the sink. It was an accident. You know, an accident? Haven't you ever spilled a drink?" Janine scoffed.

"Not lately. We found fifty Xanax in Tony's stomach," Catherine told her.

"Don't pin that on me! I'd left," Janine defended herself.

"I'll tell you what you left – your fingerprints all over the prescription bottle," Catherine retorted.

"I went to the pharmacy, waited in line, picked up the prescription, signed for it, brought it back to the house. You know, Tony did nothing for himself except work and get high," Janine told them.

"Got you a brand new Mercedes, didn't it?" Brass smirked.

"Yes it did. And it'll buy me the dress I wear at Tony's funeral too," Janine nodded.

"Look. When you left your half a house, where did you go?" Brass asked.

"A friend's," Janine answered mysteriously.

"Well, let's get her in line," Brass suggested.

"She's out of town," Janine said.

"Let me guess. She's incommunicado," Brass guessed.

"That means you can't reach her? Yeah," Janine nodded.

* * *

"Oh, mind the dummy," Catherine smirked as she walked through the hallways carrying a large dummy past the DNA lab where Grissom and Greg were conversing.

"It's been 24 minutes, Greg. When's this thing going to be done?" Grissom asked impatiently.

"Well, with all due respect, sir, it's not a baked potato. It's Braun's blood and with all the impurities in his system, it might take a little extra time," Greg pointed out, earning a shrug and a hum from Grissom who knew that he had a point "Did I ever tell you I used to live in New York?"

"Is this going to be a short story or a novel?" Grissom sighed just as the mass spectrometer printed the results.

"Excuse me. You know, heroin has a nine-minute half-life. After that, it metabolizes into morphine," Greg told him.

"What's the 6-MAM count?" Grissom requested.

"158 nanograms per mil. Definitely not lethal. The same with your Xanax. Quarter-mil tabs. 100 micrograms per litre. Again, not lethal. There's addicts walking around Times Squares with more drugs in their system," Greg remarked.

"So Braun should still be walking around," Grissom surmised as he left…but not before asking, "And the point to your New York story was…?"

"Oh. I was just going to tell you about another way to take heroin – a suppository up the coolee. You just stand on your head, and then you get gravity…," Greg trailed off when he noticed the look Grissom was giving him, "Forget it."

* * *

"Braun didn't die of a drug overdose – accidental or otherwise," Grissom told Catherine as she placed the dummy on the floor in the layout room.

"I figured. So why'd I bring the dummy?" Catherine asked before Grissom took out a shirt, "Braun's shirt."

"Robbins opened him up. His lungs were compressed. Remember Burke and Hare, the two 19th century Scottish body snatchers who made a living intoxicating innocent victims and suffocating them? Sold their cadavers to teaching hospitals? Got away with it too…until a medical student discovered his fiancée on a slab," Grissom remarked.

"Is this part of the Sherlock Holmes Fan Club Kit?" Catherine wanted to know as they dressed the dummy.

"Janine Haywood said that she left the house when the drug dealer arrived. I think she came back," Grissom began the theory.

"So Braun would have been on his third or fourth balloon by then," Catherine remarked.

"Would have been easy to tape his wrists, mash up fifty pills and force-feed him a Xanax cocktail. So everything was going great until the gardener showed up. Then I think her plan turned to panic. It takes time to OD – time didn't have," Grissom went on as he rubbed carbon-paper on the buttons of his shirt, "Burke would kneel on his victim's chest, right, covering their mouth and nostrils."

"But when you're doing drubs, you're a slob. And when you're being manhandled, you're even sloppier. Like this," Catherine said as she demonstrated then revealed the three stains on the dummy's white chest, "He was burked."

"Hello," Grissom answered the incoming telephone call, "Where? …Brass, you're breaking up! …Said he was on Blue Diamond Road, digging something up."

* * *

Indeed he was…well, Brass was trying to stop someone from digging something up. When the cops showed up with their guns and everything, he immediately stopped digging and held his hands up.

"Hey, hey. What's going on?" he demanded.

"Anybody ever tell you to call before you dig?" Brass joked.

"I got permission to be here," Curt retorted.

"Oh, is that right? From who? A dead man? You got a name?" Brass asked.

"My name's Curt Ritten. Look, Tony Braun was a friend of mine, right? This is his property. He calls me about a month ago. He says 'if anything should happen to me, you start digging. You take care of what's mine at all costs.' That's what I'm doing," Curt explained.

As Brass and Curt were having their conversation, Grissom and Catherine were peering in Curt's truck. When they looked through the window at the driver and passenger seats, they saw the items like a neon sign.

Three rolls of silver duct tape.

"Do me a favour, Curt Ritten. Put down the shovel. Stand over there," Brass instructed.

"OK," Curt nodded.

"Maybe Janine had a helper," Catherine muttered to Grissom.

"Hey, guys. You might wanna check out the basement," Brass remarked.

It was a padlocked door. Once the door was opened, Grissom and Catherine immediately descended down the stairs. There were amazed by what they found. Silver bullion. Silver candelabras. Silver dishes. Silver…everything.

"A sable cloud turns forth its silver lining to the night," Grissom recited.

"That's a lot of motive," Catherine remarked.

"And a lot of silver," Grissom piped in.

* * *

Once the duct tape had spent enough time in the freezer, Sara removed it from the cold container and began to work on unsticking it. Luckily for her, it unstuck easily and the process didn't destroy the evidence she was going to eventually uncover. When the tape was unstuck, she began painting on a solution that consisted of fingerprint powder and liquid soap. After she virtually soaked the duct tape in the solution, she used a washer to wash away the leftover and revealed the prints that the solution had revealed. Not long after she had lifted the prints and was looking at them under the light, Warrick walked in with the three rolls of silver duct tape they had collected from Curt's truck.

"OK. Three rolls of tape found in the truck owned by Curt Ritten," Warrick said.

"Nice. Let's see if that's where my print came from," Sara immediately suggested.

However, they were met with disappointment. The tape didn't come from the first roll. When they looked under the microscope, the edges didn't join up.

"No match!" Warrick moaned.

"Oh, listen to you. Would you rather hit a home run in the fourth or the bottom of the ninth?" Sara asked, earning a look from Warrick, "Let me ask you something. Braun collected silver – coins, bullion – 23 tons of it. Why bury it in Blue Diamond?"

"'Cause he was smart. In the past 20 years, the value of silver's gone to nothing and a commodity broker's going to charge you a storage fee per troy ounce and there's only one thing worse than losing 7-8% on silver a year and that's losing 9-10% because of some stupid storage fee," Warrick answered as he compared the tape to the second roll…only to be met with more disappointment.

"What good's collecting silver coupons when you're dead?" Sara wanted to know.

"Depends on who's doing the clipping," Warrick remarked as he tested the tape against the third roll and…, "Oh, we got a positive association. Roll to tape. Curt to Tony."

* * *

"You arresting me for digging?" Curt asked in disbelief.

"No. Burglary, theft and conspiracy to start," Brass corrected.

"Tony asked me to move his silver collection up to his ranch in Wyoming. I'm doing what I was told," Curt defended his actions.

"Mr Ritten, it appears that we may have physical evidence connecting you to the murder of Tony Braun," Grissom proclaimed.

"Look, I had nothing to do with the drugs. I swear to you. I haven't messed around with that stuff in a long time. I was always telling Tony, as a friend, to get off of it, to walk away," Curt protested.

"How'd you know where the silver was buried?" Brass wanted to know.

"Because I built the vault for him. I'm a contractor. That's what I do," Curt answered.

"Ever work on his house?" Brass asked.

"No. We did…we did talk about me building a basement for him once. It never got off the ground," Curt told them.

"Oh, so you've been to his house?" Brass surmised.

"We were friends. I've been to his house plenty of times. I was there a couple weeks ago. We were watching the Notre Dame game together," Curt revealed.

"Did you ever leave anything there? Did you ever bring anything over to his house?" Grissom demanded.

"Yeah. I brought a six-pack and some chips – sour cream," Curt answered.

"Tools of the trade, Curt. Construction items – hammer, duct tape?" Brass rephrased Grissom's question.

"No. Why would I do that? I got no idea what you're talking about," Curt confessed.

"Yeah. Well, whatever you don't tell us, we'll find it," Brass swore.

* * *

"That's the quickest warrant I ever got," Detective Vega remarked as he and Catherine walked into the darkened living room of Curt's apartment.

"Yep. Braun family. Long arms. I thought you said that Ritten's wife lives in Carson City," Catherine said as she noticed the woman's skirt draped over the back of the couch.

"She does. They both do. He just stays here when he's working," Vega told her.

"Or digging up silver," Catherine piped in.

Suddenly, they heard a sound coming from another room in the apartment. Immediately, Vega unholstered his gun as they slowly made their way down the hall towards the bathroom.

"Mrs Ritten? Criminalistics!" Catherine called out as she began to hear the sound of water running.

"Police officer!" Vega shouted.

The bathroom door was slightly open, allowing light and mist to fill the hallway. Slowly, the two approached the bathroom and pushed the door until it was fully open. They were surprised by what they found.

Janine. Wrapped in a towel.

"Geez! You scared me! How'd you get in there?" Janine demanded.

"I don't have to ask you that question," Catherine remarked.

* * *

"How can this be, Mandy?" Warrick demanded as Mandy gave him and Sara the prints they collected from the duct tape.

"You're telling us the prints on that tape aren't his or hers?" Sara repeated in disbelief.

"Well, if their names are Curt Ritten and Janine Haywood, the answer's 'no, it's not their prints,'" Mandy answered.

"This is ridiculous," Sara sighed.

"This thing must have a virus," Warrick said as he tapped the side of her monitor for emphasis.

"Maybe you have the wrong suspects," Mandy retorted.

"Well, that's easy for you to say. All you do is scan prints all day and hit enter," Warrick shot back.

"Look. I'm not your beast of burden. Sara, this is your thing," Mandy said as she stood to leave…before Nick walked in clearly in a cheery mood.

"Mandy…give me something dandy," Nick requested kindly.

"Is Kady back yet?" Warrick, Sara and Mandy asked hopefully…only to moan in disappointment as Nick slumped and shook his head no.

"I'll give you something dandy. Your doggie-door prints. Goodbye. I have to go on a break now. I might even team up with the lab techs here and kidnap your daughter from school," Mandy smirked as she went to leave.

"You'll do no such thing!" Nick called after her.

While he missed his daughter more than anything, he also wanted her to have the best chance at life. And one of the key elements of having this is obtaining a full-rounded education. And that meant that he wasn't going to allow anyone or anything disrupt her education.

Not if he can help it, at least.

However, when he read the report Mandy had given him before going on her break, he had nothing to say.

"See what I mean?" Warrick asked.

"Your prints came back unknown too?" Sara guessed.

"No. Came back Walt Braun," Nick corrected.

* * *

"Who is he?" Grissom asked.

"He's Tony Braun's brother. He's a pit boss at the Tangiers which is why his prints were on file – gaming card," Catherine answered.

"He's family. Why's he using the doggie door and not the front door?" Grissom wanted to know.

"Go figure. The more evidence that shows up, the more this case doesn't make sense. We got two suspects in custody and neither of their prints are on the duct tape," Catherine remarked.

"Or on the doggie door. But the brother's are," Grissom stated, earning a hum from Catherine, "So call the print lab."

"It's been done. They're not Walt Braun's prints on the tape. Came back unknown," Catherine told him.

"Hey. I've got Detective Vega rounding up Walt Braun. Apparently, this Janine Haywood really got around," Brass remarked as he sat with Grissom and Catherine in the PD waiting room, "When she wasn't at Braun's house playing girlfriend, she's over at vault boy's flat playing mistress…which gives neither of them a credible alibi."

"Flimsy alibis don't prove murder. What else have we got?" Catherine asked.

"Nothing probative," Grissom answered honestly.

"Then I let the girlfriend go. Curt Ritten goes back to lock-up until he posts bail," Brass decreed.

"Look. Forget Curt. Forget Janine. Forget the suspects. It's simple. We got to figure out how a piece of duct tape from a roll we found in Curt Ritten's trick ended up wrapped around the wrists of our victim," Grissom proclaimed.

"Without Curt's prints on it," Catherine piped in.

* * *

As soon as Curt was released from the jail, he began arguing with a brunette woman in the hallway. The woman was his wife, Bonnie. Janine's presence didn't make the situation any better. Intrigued by the exchange, Catherine, Grissom and Brass stood by and watched on.

"Curt, we're out of here," Janine decreed.

"Oh, you're going to take this too, huh?" Bonnie demanded.

"Bonnie," Curt warned.

"I come down here with a cheque to bail my husband out and you say to him, 'we're out of here'?! No, honey! You're out of here!" Bonnie screamed at her.

"Bonnie, take it easy," Curt coaxed.

"Take it easy?!" Bonnie screeched before turning to Janine, "How many men do you need, huh?"

"Hey, at least I can take care of mine," Janine sneered at her.

"I've stuck by you through the bankruptcies the flings, the lies and I have had it, OK?! So you choose! Me or her?" Bonnie challenged.

"Sorry, Janine," Curt said immediately.

"Yeah. Heard that before," Janine grumbled as she left…but not without calling back, "Call me!"

"Bail processing is this way," Brass said as he guided Bonnie and Curt towards bail processing.

"Been there," Catherine remarked.

* * *

"You come down here to ask me about a doggie door? I could've just told you over the phone," Walt remarked.

"It's a quirk. I always like to discuss fingerprints in person," Grissom said.

"Tony and I went to dinner," Walt admitted.

"How long ago?" Grissom asked.

"A while back," Walt shrugged.

"Be more specific," Grissom requested.

"Uh, about a month and a half ago. We ate at Piero's, talked a little business. I dropped him off," Walt recalled.

_Begin flashback_

"_Hey, Walt. Come over here for a second, will you?" Tony requested as they walked towards the back gate and Walt unlocked it with his own key._

"_My key still works here. How come it doesn't work on the front door?" Walt asked._

"_I changed the locks," Tony answered casually._

_And that was how Walt's fingerprints ended up on the doggie door at the back door. He had to crawl through the doggie door to obtain entrance to the house and let Tony in._

_End flashback_

"And so I used the doggie door walked through the house, opened the door, let Tony in," Walt finished his story.

"Guy with that kind of money doesn't have a security alarm?" Vega asked dryly.

"When you're a Braun, there's nothing you can't replace," Walt boasted.

"You can't replace your brother," Grissom retorted, causing Walt to go quiet as he began scratching his leg, "What's the matter with your leg?"

"I don't know. Something must have bit me," Walt shrugged.

"Mind if I take a look?" Grissom asked.

"What are you? A dermatologist?" Walt scoffed.

"I'm an entomologist, actually," Grissom corrected, "I know all about bugs."

"Sure. Can you tell me what to put on it? It's killing me," Walt remarked as he pulled down his sock to show his bug bites.

"Chigger bites. You might want to try some nail polish remover, keep it from itching. Would you mind if I took a photograph for my bite collection?" Grissom asked.

"Whatever rubs your Buddha," Walt nodded.

"We're almost done," Grissom reassured Vega as he got his camera out.

"Mr Braun, uh, where do you live?" Vega asked.

"Shoshone Hi-Rise – J.W. Brown Road," Walt answered.

"And you work here?" Vega wanted to double check.

"Yeah. I'm a glorified pit boss," Walt boasted.

"In the, uh, last 48 hours, have you been anywhere else besides those two places?" Grissom wanted to know.

"No. My life's pretty routine," Walt shook his head.

"It might just get a little more routine," Grissom decreed as he examined the photo.

* * *

Nick sat alone in the locker room, anxiously checking his clock for the time he could pick Kady up from her friend's place. During the day, he had received a call from Emily's mother, Jane, saying that she had heard about the case he was working on and that she was more than happy to have Kady sleepover. He was greatful for the help Emily's, Caitlin's and GIzem's mother offer him. But he also missed his baby. He also really got on well with Emily's mother as they are both single parents, with Emily having lost her father the same way Kady lost her mother.

"Nick, I need your leg. Show my your bite," Grissom requested.

"Oh, it's no worries. I got some cream," Nick told him.

"Hey!" Grissom exclaimed.

"Alright. It's no big deal really," Nick sighed as he revealed the bug bite.

"What time did you log in at the Braun house?" Grissom asked as he performed a visual comparison between Nick's bite and the photo of Walt's bite, clearly working on a hunch.

"9:15 that morning after I dropped Kady off at school," Nick answered.

"How long after that did you start processing the backyard?" Grissom requested.

"About a half hour," Nick shrugged at the rough estimation.

"You're not the only one with chigger bites," Grissom decreed as he showed Nick the photo.

"Who is this?" Nick demanded.

"Walt Braun. It's now 9:30 at night. Approximately 36 hours ago, you were bitten. Three hours earlier than that, Tony Braun was murdered. Chiggers run a predictable course. A chigger attaches itself to a hair follicle, injects a digest enzyme into the skin which ruptures the surrounding cells allowing the chigger to suck them up, leaving behind a red itchy bump," Grissom explained.

"So…?" Nick pressed.

"Walt Braun lied. We now have an entomological timeline that places him at the house on the day his brother was murdered," Grissom proclaimed.

"Ah, I don't know boss. I mean, ask yourself the question: are doggie-door prints and chigger bites enough to get a man for murder?" Nick asked.

Grissom thought about the question for a moment. He knew that Nick was right. Chigger bites and prints on the doggie-door aren't enough for murder.

He needed more.

* * *

"What've we got?" Catherine asked as everyone had a dinner meeting in the break room.

"Well, I got motive. According to the family lawyer, the drug addict…," Brass was cut shot.

"Now, Jim, that's jut a little callous!" Catherine snapped.

"I'm calling it what it is. I know you're friends with the family. But the guy used heroin. He was a drug addict who stood in line to inherit the old man's fortune," Brass told them.

"What about the brother?" Sara wanted to know.

"Walt's out of the picture. He's left out in the cold," Brass revealed.

"He is?" Catherine repeated in disbelief.

"Yeah. Tony promised he'd take care of him. Whatever he got, he split 50-50 all in…silver included…up until about a month ago," Brass announced.

"But Tony changed his mind which changed the will," Nick surmised.

"So wait a second. Janine, the stripper, claims that half of everything is hers. So that's actually more than just wishful thinking?" Catherine asked in disbelief.

"Bet Walt wasn't too happy about that. It's 50-50 going 75-25 the wrong way," Warrick remarked.

"Curt was digging up the silver to protect Janine's interest," Sara realized.

"So what do we have in front of us that we're missing?" Nick pondered.

"What evidence do we have that's still open?" Grissom asked.

"I just got the references off of Walt Braun. Gave the samples to Greg," Catherine answered.

"Couple of things on the priority list that haven't been processed yet: tape lifts, adhesive residue, I got the earring back," Sara listed the evidence needed processing.

"Where'd you find that?" Nick demanded.

"Living room near the body," Sara answered.

"We have to deal with that earring," Grissom decreed.

"We got to test it against Janine," Catherine piped in.

* * *

"You want to swab me, go ahead. But I can save you the trip. That's really not my style," Janine told Grissom and Catherine as she relaxed by the pool at Tony's house.

"Ms Haywood, you have pierced ears," Grissom observed.

"Yeah. He doesn't understand. I don't wear studs. Haven't worn stud since, like…god, 7th grade! Can I see that picture?" Janine requested before Grissom handed her the photo of the back, "Thanks. See? This is an earring back. It goes with a stud earring. I don't wear studs. I'm more of, like, a dangle gal. I like chandeliers. They move with you. They're on wires. They don't have a back."

"Are you finished? Open your mouth," Catherine instructed as she took the sample and Janine handed the photo back to Grissom, "Don't bite down. Wouldn't want you to swallow it."

"How about your girlfriends or Tony's girlfriends? Any of them wear studs?" Grissom asked.

"Look. Rule number one: no women allowed in the house. Tony had a wandering eye. He had a wad of cash. Who needed the drama?" Janine scoffed.

"What about the maid?" Catherine questioned.

"No," Janine shook her head, "Rule number two: heavyset, over 50, no makeup, no jewellery, no English."

"Wow. You got this whole thing down, don't you?" Catherine remarked.

"Yeah. This is my house. I didn't do anything wrong. And I inherited Josie and she cleans real good," Janine boasted.

"How often does she vacuum?" Grissom asked.

"Everyday…except on her day off," Janine answered.

"The day Tony died," Grissom said.

* * *

That was how Grissom and Catherine found themselves in Greg's DNA lab hoping for results.

"Well, if the maid is as good as Janine says she is, then…," Grissom began the sentence.

"The earring back was lost that day," Catherine finished his sentence.

"There," Greg said as he read the results fresh from the printer, "Well, maybe not. The earring back – not Janine's. But it was in the ear of a female."

"So I guess rule number one was broken. There was a woman in the house," Catherine said before turning to Grissom, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Whoever's prints are on the duct tape is missing an earring back. Who's the only other woman in the story?" Grissom asked.

"She lives in Carson City," Catherine reminded him.

"She's here now," Grissom retorted.

"She has access to Curt's truck," Catherine pointed out.

"We saw the fight in the police department," Grissom stated.

"Hell hath no fury," Catherine remained.

* * *

"It's not mine. I don't wear earrings," Bonnie shook her head.

"It's funny. Just recently, I had a little education in earrings. And I noticed that you have pierced ears," Grissom observed.

"Yeah. So what?" Bonnie demanded.

"If you don't wear earrings for a while, the holes will close up," Catherine warned.

"Will you volunteer us a DNA sample? It will confirm your story or confirm ours," Brass said.

"I'm not giving you anything," Bonnie decreed.

"It's OK, Jim. We have enough," Grissom promised.

"You should've let your husband rot in jail," Catherine remarked as she pushed the bail cheque in an evidence bag towards Bonnie, "We lifted your thumbprint from the cheque that you posted for his bail."

"We compared it to a set of unknown prints that we found on some duct tape at the crime scene," Grissom went on.

"Just like a pair of earrings – identical," Catherine finished.

"So you were at Tony's house the morning he died. Along with Walt Braun, whose prints we confirmed on the doggie door," Brass surmised.

"You know, sometimes, doing the job that we do, our biggest break comes from the most innocent circumstance. It was the maid's day off. But not the gardener's. So you had to wing it. The gardener came to the window. But he didn't see you. So you removed the tape from Tony's wrists and made it look like an OD," Grissom explained what really happened when Tony died.

"What I don't get is…you and Walt Braun didn't move in the same circles. How'd the two of you hook up?" Catherine asked, earning silence from Bonnie.

"News flash, sweetheart. Can't make a deal if you keep your mouth shut," Brass remarked.

* * *

Fortunately for them, Bonnie told them everything that had happened the morning Tony died. Including how Walt had played a part in it. And that was how Walt found himself in a jail cell.

"That's the thing about my father. He could never give advice. But he had a million stories. Scorpion and the Frog. Scorpion needs to get across the creek and asked the frog for a ride. Frog says, 'I can't trust you. You're a scorpion.' Scorpion says, 'Sure you can.' Hops on the frog's back. Midway across, the scorpion stings the frog. Frog looks at him. 'Why would you do that? Now we're both gonna die." Scorpion says, 'I can't help it. I'm a scorpion,'" Walt recited, "If Tony hadn't thrown a party, the two of us would never have been standing at that bar."

_Begin flashback_

_It was a casino party where Tony had invited a lot of his friends and family. Curt was included. And naturally, he brought along his wife, Bonnie. However, virtually as soon as he arrived, Curt ditched his wife for Janine._

_Hey, Janine. You're looking good," Curt complimented._

_Walt saw Bonnie sitting at the bar with her drink watching Curt and Janine flirt with each other. He thought that no beautiful woman deserved to be ditched the way she was. So he sat with her._

"_You're looking at my brother's trophy?" Walt guessed._

"_No. My husband's bimbo," Bonnie corrected._

"_Walt Braun," Walt introduced himself._

"_Bonnie Ritten," Bonnie replied as they shook hands._

_End flashback_

"And an opportunity presented itself. Tony had erased you from the will and Bonnie wanted the people that hurt her to pay," Grissom surmised.

"Ain't love grand?" Brass remarked.

* * *

After learning about who killed Tony and how he died, Catherine decided she should be the one to tell Sam, considering how close they are. It's better to hear it from someone he knows rather than someone he doesn't.

"You know, this…this could've all been his. His and Tony's," Sam said as they walked through the main floor of the casino, his arm slung around Catherine's shoulders.

"It's not your fault," Catherine tried to tell him.

"Sure it is. I committed the cardinal sin. I loved one son more than the other," Sam corrected.

"It's human nature. We can't deny our feelings," Catherine retorted.

"But you can hide it," Sam shot back, "And I didn't. They're my sons. I made them, I raised them…and one kills the other."

"Hey, Sam. You still got me," Catherine reassured him.

"You know, I should've married your mother," Sam sighed.

"Well, considering I was six months old when you guys lit the flame…a lot of time has passed. You had plenty of chances," Catherine pointed out.

"Just wasn't in the cards, Catherine. It just wasn't in the cards," was all Sam said.

* * *

"Hey, Greg. What's-?" Sara began to ask as she approached the locker room.

"Shhhhh!" Greg hissed as he gestured to inside.

Sara looked to where Greg was pointing and couldn't help but smile at the sight. Nick and Kady were sitting together in the locker room, Kady's schoolbag by Nick's feet as she sat on his lap. In her hands, she held the book 'Beauty and the Beast' as Nick read to her over her shoulder. On his face, he wore a proud smile. **(AN: Once again, I do not own the text used here. Beauty and the Beast rightfully belongs to The Brothers Grimm and any other respective owners.)**

"Once upon a time as a merchant set off for market, he asked each of his three daughters what she would like as a present on his return. The first daughter wanted a brocade dress, the second a pearl necklace, but the third, whose name was Beauty, the youngest, prettiest and sweetest of them all, said to her father:

'All I'd like is a rose you've picked specially for me!'" Nick read.

Outside, Warrick had joined Sara and Greg by the doorway watching Kady and Nick interact. There were many things he knew about Nick – after all, he was his first friend when Nick moved to Vegas – and one thing he knew is how much he enjoyed reading to his baby girl.

"I've got the popcorn," Mandy whispered as she ran towards them with two bowls of popcorn.

"Nice," Greg whispered as they began eating.

"When I have kids, I'm gonna ask him to read to them and babysit them a lot. He's a natural! Even before Kady was born!" Mandy complemented.

"I hear that," Greg, Warrick and Sara agreed.

"When the merchant had finished his business, he set off for home. However, a sudden storm blew up, and his horse could hardly make headway in the howling gale. Cold and weary, the merchant had lost all hope of reaching an inn when he suddenly noticed a bright light shining in the middle of a wood. As he drew near, he saw that it was a castle, bathed in light.

'I hope I'll find shelter there for the night,' he said to himself. When he reached the door, he saw it was open, but though he shouted, nobody came to greet him. Plucking up courage, he went inside, still calling out to attract attention. On a table in the main hall, a splendid dinner lay already served. The merchant lingered, still shouting for the owner of the castle. But no one came, and so the starving merchant sat down to a hearty meal," Nick read on, smiling as Kady snuggled into his chest, enjoying the sound of his soothing voice and his Southern accent.

Catherine joined the growing crowd around the locker room bring two more bowls of popcorn. The two Mandy had brought had 'mysteriously disappeared' so before joining the commotion, she decided to pop two more bowls for the grave shift CSIs and the lab techs to munch on. She smiled as the sight reminded her of when Nick used to babysit Lindsey when she was a baby. Actually, when she witnessed him handle that baby on his first case involving young children, she knew right then and there that Nick was going to be an amazing father.

"I love it when he reads to her," Catherine remarked.

"Overcome by curiosity, he ventured upstairs, where the corridor led into magnificent rooms and halls. A fire crackled in the first room and a soft bed looked very inviting. It was now late, and the merchant could not resist. He lay down on the bed and fell fast asleep. When he woke next morning, an unknown hand had placed a mug of steaming coffee and some fruit by his bedside.

The merchant had breakfast and after tidying himself up, went downstairs to thank his generous host. But, as on the evening before, there was nobody in sight. Shaking his head in wonder at the strangeness of it all, he went towards the garden where he had left his horse, tethered to a tree. Suddenly, a large rose bush caught his eye," Nick took the book from Kady's hands as he singlehanded held her close.

Grissom smiled at the sight like everyone else. The moment the two had met, Grissom looked to Nick – a boy looking to be his own man and new to a strange place with no family – as a son. He nurtured him, cared for him the way his father would and helped him become the man he is today. And he was the one Nick went to when he intended on proposing to Abby. Not Warrick. Not Catherine. Certainly not Greg. But him.

He couldn't be any prouder of him.

"He goes for the rose doesn't he?" Kady asked knowingly, making the question sound more like a statement.

"Yep," Nick nodded before continuing to read, "Remembering his promise to Beauty, he bent down to pick a rose. Instantly, out of the rose garden, sprang a horrible beast, wearing splendid clothes. Two bloodshot eyes, gleaming angrily, glared at him and a deep terrifying voice growled: 'Ungrateful man! I gave you shelter, you ate at my table and slept in my own bed, but now all the thanks I get is the theft of my favourite flowers! I shall put you to death for this slight! Trembling with fear, the merchant fell on his knees before the Beast.

'Forgive me! Forgive me! Don't kill me! I'll do anything you say! The rose wasn't for me, it was for a daughter Beauty. I promised to bring her back a rose from my journey!' The Beast dropped the paw it had clamped on the unhappy merchant."

Greg began choking on his popcorn as he laughed at the voices Nick was using to make the story as real as he possibly could for Kady. Warrick shook his head while Mandy and Sara tried to make sure Greg didn't suffocate to death.

"'I shall spare your life, but on one condition, that you bring me your daughter!' The terror-stricken merchant, faced with certain death if he did not obey, promised that he would do so. When he reached home in tears, his three daughters ran to greet him. After he had told them of his dreadful adventure, Beauty put his mind at rest immediately.

'Dear father, I'd do anything for you! Don't worry, you'll be able to keep your promise and save your life! Take me to the castle. I'll stay there in your place!' The merchant hugged his daughter," Nick read.

"Sounds like something Kady would do," Grissom said.

"And vice versa," Catherine piped in, knowing from first-hand experience how far Nick is willing to go to save his daughter.

"'I never did doubt your love for me. For the moment I can only thank you for saving my life.' So Beauty was led to the castle. The Beast, however, had quite an unexpected greeting for the girl. Instead of the menacing doom as it had done with her father, it was surprisingly pleasant.

In the beginning, Beauty was frightened of the Beast, and shuddered at the sight of it. Then she found that, in spite of the monster's awful head, her horror of it was gradually fading as time went by. She had one of the finest rooms in the Castle, and sat for hours, embroidering in front of the fire. And the Beast would sit, for hours on end, only a short distance away, silently gazing at her. Then it started to say a few kind words, till in the end, Beauty was amazed to discover that she was actually enjoying its conversation. The days passed, and Beauty and the Beast became good friends. Then one day, the Beast asked the girl to be his wife," Nick continued to read.

"Did she say yes?" Kady asked excitedly.

"How many times have you heard this?" Nick asked in amusement with both his words and his eyes.

"It still feels like the first time!" Kady beamed.

Nick smiled at his daughter's enjoyment of her favourite story and resumed reading, "Taken by surprise, Beauty did not know what to say. Marry such an ugly monster? She would rather die! But she did not want to hurt the feelings of one who, after all, had been kind to her. And she remembered that she owed it her own life as well as her father's.

'I really can't say yes,' she began shakily, 'I'd so much like to…' The Beast interrupted her with an abrupt gesture."

"What's going on?" Bras asked as he joined the party, only to have them respond by pointing to Nick and Kady in the locker room, "Oh! I love when he reads to her."

"'I quite understand! And I'm not offended by your refusal!' Life went on as usual, and nothing further was said. One day, the Beast presented Beauty with a magnificent magic mirror. When Beauty peeped into it, she could see her family, far away.

'You won't feel so lonely now,' were the words that accompanied the gift. Beauty stared for hours at her distant family. Then she began to feel worried. One day, the Beast found her weeping beside the magic mirror.

'What's wrong?' he asked, kindly as always.

'My father is gravely ill and close to dying! Oh, how I wish I could see him again, before it's too late!' But the Beast only shook its head.

'No! You will never leave this castle!' And off it stalked in a rage. However, a little later, it returned and spoke solemnly to the girl.

'If you swear that you will return here in seven days time, I'll let you go and visit your father!' Beauty threw herself at the Beast's feet in delight.

'I swear! I swear I will! How kind you are! You've made a loving daughter so happy!' In reality, the merchant had fallen ill from a broken heart at knowing his daughter was being kept prisoner. When he embraced her again, he was soon on the road to recovery. Beauty stayed beside him for hours on end, describing her life at the Castle, and explaining that the Beast was really good and kind. The days flashed past, and at last the merchant was able to leave his bed. He was completely well again. Beauty was happy at last. However, she had failed to notice that seven days had gone by.

Then one night she woke from a terrible nightmare. She had dreamt that the Beast was dying and calling for her, twisting in agony.

'Come back! Come back to me!' it was pleading. The solemn promise she had made drove her to leave home immediately.

'Hurry! Hurry, good horse!' she said, whipping her steed onwards towards the castle, afraid that she might arrive too late. She rushed up the stairs, calling, but there was no reply. Her heart in her mouth, Beauty ran into the garden and there crouched the Beast, its eyes shut, as though dead. Beauty threw herself at it and hugged it tightly.

'Don't die! Don't die! I'll marry you…' At these words, a miracle took place. The beast's ugly snout turned magically into the face of a handsome young man.

'How I've been longing for this moment!' he said. 'I was suffering in silence, and couldn't tell my frightful secret. An evil witch turned me into a monster and only the love of a maiden willing to accept me as I was, could transform me back into my real self. My dearest! I'll be so happy if you'll marry me.'

The wedding took place shortly after and, from that day on, the young Prince would have nothing but roses in his gardens. And that's why, to this day, the castle is known as the Castle of the Rose."

Nick smiled as Kady snuggled deeper into him before turning to the audience,

"Make a path. I'd like to go home and spend time with my baby."

Everyone rolled their eyes and made the path as Nick carried his daughter out of the lab and headed home since the shift was over. Everyone smiled at the sight. Nothing may have been the same in the lab without having Kady around as much as they used to due to school. But, like Nick, they just had to remember that at the end of the day…

They get her back.


	2. Chaos Theory

**Chaos Theory: A university student named Paige Rycoff mysteriously vanishes into thin air. With the circumstances surrounding her disappearance – such as her affair with a married professor and other events – the CSI team begins to suspect foul play. When her body is found in a trash heap, the team now only has one question to answer: what led to her death?**

**Next, Overload: Grissom is convinced a construction worker was electrocuted after he falls from the twelfth story of a construction site. However, he has to go through heaps of trouble to prove his theory when the evidence doesn't immediately support this and the Sheriff doesn't have a hard time believing that it was a suicide rather than an intentional homicide. Meanwhile, Catherine finds out a startling secret about Nick's past when they work the case of a teenage boy who appears to have died of a grand mal seizure during a therapy session.**

**Then, Bully for You: Everyone begins to think about what they were like during their high school years when the class clown is discovered dead in the boy's bathroom at a local high school. However, Grissom, Warrick and Catherine soon discover that their victim bullied the majority of his fellow students, giving them a lot of suspects. Meanwhile, a badly decomposed body is found in a leather bag and Sara and Nick have to figure out who this person is and how they died.**

**Later, Scuba Doobie-Doo: A former tenant leaves behind a blood-splattered apartment, a missing girlfriend and an interesting investigation for Grissom, Warrick and Sara. Meanwhile, an urban legend could turn out to be fact as Catherine and Nick investigate the death of a scuba diver that was found on top of a tree after a forest fire.**

**I own nothing aside from Kady. I don't even own the book mentioned!**

**ENJOY!**

* * *

Paige Rycoff looked out the window from her dormitory at Western Las Vegas University. She had spent the entire day cleaning and packing, making sure she left the dorm just as she first found it. It was the only way for her to get her security deposit back. Making the decision to drop out during her first year was one of the hardest decision she had ever made. But she knew that she couldn't stay either. Something deep down was telling her that she had to leave. That she had to go back home.

"Yeah?" she answered her incoming call, "Hold the metre. I'll be right down."

When she hung out her phone, she looked out the window for one last time. This was it. She was leaving…

If only it were that easy.

* * *

It was four days later. Paige's luggage, purse and plane ticket were right where she left them. Something happened that had prevented her from boarding that plane to go home. And it was something that caused Brass and the CSIs to be called in. Brass and Grissom were walking towards their dorm room, discussing everything that they knew so far.

"Paige Rycoff. Freshman. Couldn't stand the heat. Dropped out of school," Brass told Grissom.

"Dropped out of sight," Grissom corrected.

"Booked a one-way ticket home to Boulder. Never got there. Four days M.I.A," Brass went on.

"Missing persons. First 24 hours are gold. After that…," Grissom trailed off as they arrived at Paige's room.

"Quicksand," Brass finished as they entered, "Hey."

While Brass was outside talking to the police officer who stood by the door to the dorm, Grissom was getting annoyed by the fact that the officers were just standing around comparing notes and not really doing…anything that could potentially bring Paige home to her family.

"Excuse me. But could everyone in this room do me a favour…and leave?" Grissom asked, "Please?"

"Thanks, fellas. Thanks, guys," Brass said to the officers as they left the room, "You want me to go too?"

"If you're very still, you can stay," Grissom told him as he slid on a pair of latex gloves.

"She was definitely on her way out of here," Brass remarked.

"Lamp's still on," Grissom observed.

"Yeah. But she didn't take her suitcase, her purse…or the cab she called," Brass said as Grissom took the plane ticket from her purse.

"It's like going to the vet without your dog," Grissom quipped.

"Maybe she had a change of plan," Brass shrugged, "Or someone changed it for her."

"No sign of struggle. Everything's intact. Nothing's out of place," Grissom stated.

Randomly, Grissom walked out of the dorm and shut the door behind him. Before Brass could go, 'Say wha?' he heard a quiet knock at the door.

"Come in," Brass muttered as he opened the door and Grissom let himself in.

"Door locks automatically and there were no keys in her purse," Grissom pointed out.

"Maybe they were in her pocket," Brass shrugged.

"If they were in her pocket, she could've walked right back in. Why didn't see?" Grissom retorted.

"One moment Paige Rycoff is here. The next…vanished," Brass said.

"People don't vanish, Jim. It's a molecular impossibility," Grissom retorted.

Insert title credits here

"They got this multiplex system – there's eyes all over the place. There's eight floors and four cameras per floor," Warrick said.

"They have this system in place when you went to school here?" Grissom asked Warrick casually.

"With all the stuff me and my boys got away with, it's probably why they have them now," Warrick remarked.

"Hey. Scent dogs are on their way," Sara decreed as she tried to get into the dorm…only to be stopped by the turnstyle at the entrance.

"If you don't live in the dorm, you can't get in," Grissom warned her.

"What about getting out?" Sara wanted to know.

* * *

"Four hundred students, twelve uniform officers, ten minutes per interview. P.D should be done by Tuesday," Catherine remarked as she and Nick walked through the hallway.

"Well, I'll take prints over people any day," Nick decreed.

"Cause they're quicker to do and you'd be able to get home to your baby sooner," Catherine smirked.

"Got that right," Nick immediately agreed as they met up with Grissom, Sara and Warrick at the next corner.

"How about taking video? There's cameras on every floor; one of them have seen something. Please find it," Grissom requested.

"OK," Nick nodded before leaving.

"In this case, more is less – the more time goes by, the less chance we have of finding the girl," Grissom warned.

"Four days? We'd be looking for a body already," Catherine stated.

"Well, hide and seek. Let's go," Warrick said as he and Catherine left.

* * *

"I talked to her R.A. Paige had put in a request to have all her mail forwarded, including her security deposit," Sara told Grissom as they examined Paige's room.

Everyone knows that Grissom is famous for his strange methods when it comes to evidence. There are times where he actually tastes the mysterious substance in hopes if identifying it. There was no exception with the sticky substance in the wall.

"Minty," Grissom commented.

"Toothpaste. Poor man's spackle. It's an old college trick – covers up the holes when the posters come down," Sara clarified.

"Ah… Leave the room the way you found it, get back your full deposit," Grissom recalled.

"$500. That's huge money at her age if you actually get it. That's a big college racket, like buying books back," Sara remarked.

"Why would anyone want to sell their books?" Grissom demanded in shock.

"Two beds. Roommate?" Sara asked.

"Jennifer Riggs. Left school two weeks into the semester. Brass checked with the registrar," Grissom answered before noticing something odd with the shades of colour on the floor, "There's a void. Something was here."

"Area rug? Could've been used to conceal a body on the way out," Sara shrugged.

* * *

"_The disappearance of Western Las Vegas University co-ed Paige Rycoff has police baffled. They're working on several leads. And though investigators are still piecing together…_"

"How's this strap right here? Is it tight enough?" Warrick asked Catherine as he adjusted Catherine's harness.

"Uh, yeah, fine," Catherine muttered.

"How about this one?" Warrick asked again as he tugged on another strap.

"Yeah. It's…it's good, Warrick," Catherine nodded.

"Well, you know, you can get cadets to do this, Cath. I mean, they're used to obstacle courses," Warrick pointed out.

"Yeah, well, on a missing persons case, we can't wait," Catherine retorted.

"Yeah, well, it looks like a kill-and-dump to me. I mean, the guy waited for the coast to clear door to door. It's only ten metres…," Warrick began saying as Catherine opened the garbage chute…only to have it snap shut.

"Hmm, snappy little sucker. Somebody ought to fix that," Catherine remarked.

"Yeah? Well, alright. After we find Paige," Warrick promised.

"Right," Catherine nodded.

With those words said, Warrick opened the chute and held it open so it wouldn't snap shut again. Then he helped Catherine into the chute. Nick watched Catherine climb into the chute from the control room of the security cameras with the tech.

"OK. Here we're looking at the fourth floor. It's real time," the tech told Nick.

"Mm-hmm… I'm interested in any camera that covers Paige's Rycoff's room," Nick said.

"Oh, that's camera two. Here. I'll put it on the large screen," the camera tech offered as he did so.

"Now go back four days, one hour window 8:00 to 9:00pm. Fast forward," Nick requested kindly…before noticing something interesting, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on. How'd you miss that?"

"We don't catch every moment," the tech defended himself.

"Go back 15 seconds. Replay in slow-mo," Nick instructed.

The video tech did as Nick instructed him and saw what caused the camera to black out. Someone had reached up to the camera lens and placed something on top of it to cover it up.

"What is that?" he wanted to know.

"Camera captures 13% more than we're seeing on this monitor. Picture condenses to fit the aspect ratio…," Nick began.

"Pixel matrix, yeah," the tech finished for Nick with a nod.

"Mm-hmm. Show me the under scan. Stop. Now go back five seconds before the lens was covered. Freeze and magnify," Nick requested.

"Somebody's hand," the tech observed.

"Looks like he pushed off the wall…tossed something on the lens. Prints over people. Thanks, man," Nick thanked.

* * *

"_Find anything interesting down there?_"

"Yeah. Plenty. But not what we're looking for," Catherine grunted back to Warrick over the radio as she went down the chute.

"_How's the smell? Good?_"

"Funky. When Kady and Lindsey were little, their diapers weren't as bad as this," Catherine remarked before she saw something interesting in the wall, "Wait, stop. Stop, stop, stop."

"_What you got?_"

"Looks like, uh…something or…someone smashed up against this cute pretty hard," Catherine observed the red substance on the wall.

"_What floor are you on?_"

"Uh…between, um…first and second, I think," Catherine estimated.

"_Well, if the body was dumped, it would've been moving pretty fast by then._"

However, Catherine immediately pushed those thoughts aside when she touched the substance and smelt it. She could recognize that smell anywhere.

"Pizza. Keep going," Catherine requested as she was lowered further.

Warrick kept on lowering Catherine until she reached the end of the chute and felt her feet come into contact with the metallic surface of the dumpster underneath.

"Ah. Touchdown. Uh, chute's clear. Looks like trash is picked up every morning. We got nothing," Catherine decreed as she noticed the two frustrated search dogs at the entrance of the alleyway, "Hey, Warrick. It looks like we're not the only ones chasing our tails."

* * *

After sliding on her orangy-red protective goggles, Sara turned off the lights in Paige's room. She used the AVS to examine the room. She checked the walls, the floor and Paige's bed without finding anything. However, when she reached the bed that was occupied by Paige's former roommate, it lit up like a Christmas tree. She circled each dot of bodily fluid she found for collection when she returned to the lab with all the evidence she had collected.

* * *

Nick was standing at the same place the lens of the security camera was promised. He applied a special substance to the area of the wall and couldn't help but smile to himself when the handprint appeared. Sara was amazed.

"How did you know where to print?" Sara demanded.

"Knew where to look. How about you?" Nick asked.

"DNA, blood and semen," Sara boasted proudly.

"We shoot, we score," Nick smirked.

* * *

Grissom wore a thoughtful look on his face as he looked downward. Standing before him were Mr and Mrs Rycoff, Paige's parents who have come to Las Vegas hoping for some answers. Answers that Grissom and the employees of the Las Vegas Police Department just didn't have.

"No one is telling us anything. It's been four days," Mrs Rycoff said.

"I mean, the police aren't talking to us," Mr Rycoff added.

"We have no information," Mrs Rycoff went on.

"It's gotten crazy," Mr Rycoff decreed.

"I want to know how this could happen. Mr Grissom, what are you doing to find my daughter?" Mrs Rycoff asked.

"I'm thinking," Grissom said.

"How many men are on this case?" Mr Rycoff demanded.

"Do you have any leads?! Any?" Mrs Rycoff wanted to know.

"Are you looking anywhere else?" Mr Rycoff questioned.

"When we get any new information, I'll let you know," Grissom promised.

"What can we do?" Mrs Rycoff asked desperately.

"Just let me do my job," Grissom requested.

"This is our daughter. We can't just be observers," Mr Rycoff protested.

"No we won't. We're part of this," Mrs Rycoff proclaimed.

"Look. What no one's telling you is that the only tangible connection you have left between you and your daughter is the evidence that my team is collecting and how we interpret it. So please…let me think," Grissom pleaded, causing Mr and Mrs Rycoff to leave.

* * *

There were many things that Grissom could have noticed about Catherine when she joined him in the AV lab. Instead, he noticed…

"You showered," Grissom observed.

"Thanks for noticing, Gil. You're very observant," Catherine said sarcastically as they kept on re-watching the security video from the night Paige went missing.

"Yeah?" Grissom said hopefully, clearly ignoring the sarcasm laced into Catherine's voice, "Well…I can't tell what I'm observing here. What does that look like?"

"A 5"11 workaholic," Catherine smirked.

"Sorry," Grissom smiled sheepishly as he moved out of the way.

"It looks like somebody carrying…something," Catherine observed.

"Paige Rycoff was missing a rug from her room," Grissom pointed out before feeling someone tug at his pant leg, "Hey, alligator!"

"Sunshine!" Catherine squealed happily as she kissed her four-year-old goddaughter on the cheek, "How was school?"

"Awesome!" Kady answered excitedly.

"Where's your daddy?" Grissom asked.

"Right behind her," Nick answered as he settled his daughter onto his hip with a kiss on the cheek, "Got an ID off my print. I know who covered the cameras."

"Good. We know what he might've carried out," Grissom decreed.

* * *

"It's a hand," Henry McFadden stated dryly as he looked at the photo given to him in the interview room.

"It's your hand," Grissom corrected.

"OK. If you say so," Henry shrugged.

"Hey. Your fingerprints say so," Nick said.

"OK. I'll cop to it. But I'm not copping to it alone," Henry decreed.

"Pledge prank. You boosted a carpet and a couch?" Brass said in disbelief.

"We borrowed," Henry corrected, "We borrowed some stuff from the lounge. But we were going to return it."

"When? After you graduate? What else did you take, Henry?" Brass asked.

"Oh…two lamps, coffee table, couple rolls of toilet paper," Henry listed, "Look. I'll pay for it."

"Why the fourth floor?" Nick asked, clearly not understanding the situation due to attending college in Texas.

"Uh…the fourth, fifth and seventh floor have the primo goods. OK? Four floor's closer to the ground. Less stairs. Faster we can get out of the building and into the van, faster we get out of there," Henry explained.

"Do you know Paige Rycoff?" Grissom asked, which caused Henry to suddenly turn serious.

"Yeah. Yeah. But I had nothing to do with…with that or whatever happened to her," Henry promised.

"But you do know her," Brass stated.

"Well, yeah. You know, we live in the same dorm. We're in Economics 101 together. So what?" Henry scoffed.

"So what?" Nick repeated.

"Paige and I dated once or twice. She wasn't my type. If you haven't noticed…," Henry trailed off, gesturing to his orange Omega Zeta Pi Pledge shirt, "I'm in the system now. The talent pool's pretty deep."

"She dumped you," Nick smirked.

"Guy like you, it had to be a blow to your ego," Grissom remarked, "Maybe you tried to change her mind."

"Alright. Come on. Listen. It wasn't like that. It wasn't like that at all. Come on. Paige was seeing another guy. Someone who was "more mature" than I am," Henry finally revealed.

"You got a name on this other guy?" Brass asked.

"No. She never said," Henry answered honestly.

"You can go," Brass decided, causing Henry to stand, "But the stuff gets returned."

"Yes, sir," Henry nodded before leaving.

"From hot to cold in a minute," Nick sighed in frustration.

"This is the worst place you can be on a missing persons…a dead end," Grissom remarked sadly.

* * *

"_The parents of Western Las Vegas University freshman, Paige Rycoff. They join us now to discuss their daughter's disappearance. Mrs Rycoff, did your daughter tell you why she was leaving school?_"

"_We're a close family, and Paige just felt she needed to be home…with us._"

"_But why leave mid semester?_"

"_I asked…_"

"_She was going to make a fresh start back on Boulder._"

"I need you in the lab," Sara said, distracting Grissom from the interview of Paige's parents.

"You know, when a tree falls in the forest, even if no one's there to hear it, it does, in fact, make a sound," Grissom stated.

"Yes. Somebody must have seen or heard something," Sara agreed.

"What have we got?" Grissom asked as they left the room together.

* * *

"Well, this is one way to get her DNA. Bring me her whole life," Greg remarked with a tired as he looked at every single object Paige owned that could contain traces of her DNA; from her makeup to tweezers, nail clippers and eyelash curlers. While he looked at these objects, he bounced his curious four-year-old goddaughter in his life, having stolen her from his best friend a few moments before.

"It's called zeal, Greg," Sara said.

"Or overkill," Greg and Kady retorted.

"It's called protocol," Grissom corrected the three of them, "Let's get on with it."

"OK. Well, I, uh, got Paige's DNA from her toothbrush. I compared it to the blood and semen that Sara found on the mattress in her dorm room," Greg began explaining.

"Blood's not hers," Sara decreed.

"Not hers?" Grissom repeated in disbelief.

"That's not all. Check out the tox screen," Sara advised as she handed Grissom the report and he took out his glasses.

"Rohypnol?" Grissom read in shock.

"Date rape drug," Sara clarified.

"What about the semen?" Grissom asked.

"We don't know," Kady shrugged.

"What we do know is that the vaginal contribution to the semen stain is a match to the blood. However…it's like Kady said. We don't know whose blood it is," Greg added.

"We may have two victims," Sara decreed, "One missing, one raped."

* * *

"There's our boys about to move their 'borrowed' furniture," Nick observed from the security surveillance of the video camera from the night Paige went missing.

"Advance it to 8:27pm," Catherine requested kindly before Nick did so.

"OK. I think the table's set. Cab double-parked," Nick pointed out.

"He calls up. Paige says that she'll be right down," Catherine recalled the statement.

"And he becomes the world's most patient cabbie," Nick remarked.

"And just like he tells Brass…he waits 15 minutes," Catherine said as they watched the cab finally pull out.

"13 minutes, 27 seconds according to the time code. Close enough," Nick corrected before grabbing his gear, "Let's get back out in the field. Tech can finish up here."

"Hey. Where's the fire, bud? We're just getting started. These security cameras are the only witnesses we've got," Catherine decreed.

"I'll, uh, settle in," Nick sighed as he placed his bag down.

"Good idea," Catherine smirked.

"Hey. If I'm not done in the morning, do you think you could…?" Nick trailed off.

"If I can't, I'll have someone else take Kady to school and pick her up if necessary," Catherine promised.

* * *

"Jennifer Riggs – missing girl's roommate. She dropped out of school too about a month and a half ago," Brass told Grissom and Sara as they approached her house.

"That dorm room is cursed," Sara remarked.

"Is this her parents' house?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah. Possible sexual assault so I thought I'd wait for the whole team," Brass nodded.

"You thought you should, uh, wait for a female," Sara corrected with a knowing look on her face.

* * *

"_A video shot during the first week of school offers fresh insight into the 18-year-old's personality. We can see that Paige was an average, apparently happy and healthy freshman, looking forward to…_"

"How did you even find out about me?" Jennifer demanded, "I mean, I-I didn't report it. I just…ran. And I left school. Nobody knew. Not even Paige."

"Jennifer, we found forensic evidence in your old dorm room. We believe you were sexually assaulted while under the influence of Rohypnol," Sara decreed

"And now you guys think the guy that attacked me had something to do with Paige's disappearance?" Jennifer guessed.

"Two women. Same dorm room," was all Sara said.

"We're looking for a connection," Grissom rephrased.

"Will you tell us his name?" Brass asked, causing Jennifer to take in a shaky breath.

"Do you wanna talk alone?" Sara offered, knowing how hard this was going to be for her.

"You don't understand. I can't remember. I never could remember," Jennifer confessed.

"That's one of the side effects of Rohypnol. I'm sure he was counting on that," Grissom said.

"There was this party…," Jennifer trailed off.

"Who was at this party?" Brass pressed, hoping to catch the person who did this to her.

"It was a floor party. That's why I had to leave school. Somebody that I was living with attacked me…and I was never going to know who," Jennifer practically sobbed.

* * *

"Why would a rapist voluntarily give up his DNA?" Sara asked as she, Warrick and Grissom stood in an elevator heading towards the dorm.

"Officially, we're looking for the individual who abducted Paige Rycoff. Not the student who raped Jennifer Riggs," Grissom pointed out.

"Oh, so as long as the students participate voluntarily, we can use their DNA as we see fit," Warrick realized as the three of them stepped out.

"Ah, the old Bait and Switch," Sara smirked.

"The ole Smart and Legal," Warrick corrected.

"Yeah. But what if someone refuses?" Sara asked.

"That's what we're hoping for. De facto suspect," Grissom said.

* * *

That was how Sara and Warrick found themselves walking down a line of every make in the dorm taking samples of their DNA…well, Sara was. Warrick stood behind her collecting the swabs.

"Open," Sara instructed a student, causing him to clear his throat and disobey her request, "Are you refusing?"

"I haven't brushed my teeth," he clarified.

"Hey, mouth boy. She's not gonna kiss you. She just wants your DNA, OK?" Warrick told him, causing him to finally open his mouth.

* * *

"Friederich Miescher requests my presence?" Grissom asked in disbelief as he walked into Greg's lab holding his pager.

"Figured out the code Kady and I came up with, huh?" Greg smirked, "Well, you now, my boy Freddy discovered DNA."

"The two of you must have been really bored then. He's been dead a hundred years, Greg. What do you got?" Grissom wanted to know.

"Well, I ran the samples on COfiler and Profiler Plus. Then I compared each specimen against the types obtained from the dried semen that you found on the victim's mattress…," Greg began rambling.

"Are we paying you by the word?" Grissom cut him short.

"Thirteen markers. Thirteen matches. One suspect. Thank you," Greg said as he handed Grissom the test results.

"Where's Kadelin?" Grissom asked, clearly forgetting what day of the week it was.

"I took her to school," Greg answered.

* * *

"Kevin Watson, 19, room 407. Just down the hall from our girls. Athletic director says he plays first base, bats right-handed," Brass said as he, Grissom and Warrick walked across the baseball practice field.

"Any record?" Grissom asked.

"Three Ds and a C. Nothing criminal. Number 25 just like McGwire," Brass remarked.

"Yeah? I wonder how he hits," Grissom pondered before they began questioning Kevin in the dugout, "Listen, Kevin. We know that you assaulted Jennifer Riggs. Why don't you just tell us about Paige Rycoff?"

"I don't know anything about Paige…or Jennifer," Kevin protested.

"Well, I'll tell you what I know. Jennifer Riggs was raped. We found semen on her mattress. We matched the seminal DNA to you," Grissom revealed.

"Q-tip down my throat. Thought you were here trying to figure out what happened to Paige," Kevin said.

"We are," Grissom promised him.

"So what did happen, Kevin? You attack Paige, too? Hell, you've been in her room before. But unlike her roommate, Paige fought back. Is that it?" Brass demanded.

"I never touched Paige. I wasn't even in town. Three ball games in Fresno. We got back yesterday. Check the roster. Ask coach," Kevin said.

"No. I'll do that. But in the meantime, you're coming with us. You're under arrest for the use of a controlled substance in the sexual assault on Jennifer Riggs. Get him out of here," Brass requested as a couple of officers took him away, "Wait for me. Wait for me in the car."

"Another dead end," Grissom sighed as Warrick joined the group.

"Yeah, I know. I talked to the coach. Road trip," Warrick told them.

"We're losing her," Grissom decreed.

* * *

"And there it is again," Catherine said as she and Nick saw the same car pass the building.

"You know, that car circled the block six times between…8:20 and 8:40pm?" Nick stated.

"Alright. You loop around twice, you're looking for a parking space. Six times…," Catherine began.

"You're up to no good," Nick finished.

"Is that something hanging from the rear view mirror?" Catherine asked, causing Nick to rewind the video, "Why don't you zoom in on that?"

That was when they saw it. A Las Vegas University Parking Permit.

"You know, it's easier to get a master's degree than a parking spot on campus," Nick remarked.

"Right. Why don't you meet up with university parking and cross-reference all silver Volvos?" Catherine suggested.

"Right," Nick nodded.

"Oh, and Nick?" Catherine said.

"Yeah?" Nick responded.

"When you find the car…," Catherine trailed off.

"I know. Check the trunk," Nick finished before leaving.

* * *

Eventually, they found the car that kept on appearing in the surveillance footage and Grissom, Catherine and Nick were ready to process it.

"Silver Volvo. University ID," Catherine observed.

"A world of possibilities reduced to a single car?" Grissom said.

"Registered to Robert Woodbury, Philosophy Professor, tenured. Detail's almost got the latch," Nick told them.

No sooner than had those words left his lips, the technician managed to open the hatch. Immediately, the three CSIs were standing by the open boot. They saw something covered with a black, white and grey patterned blanket. The size of the object covered by the blanket appeared to be consistent with a body. When Nick removed the blanket, they were slightly relief.

It was a set of golf clubs.

But Paige is still missing.

"Nick, tow it to CSI and process," Grissom instructed, "Cath…"

"Office hours with the Professor," Catherine finished his thoughts.

* * *

"Yes. I was near the dorm that night," Professor Woodbury confessed.

"Professor Woodbury, you circled the block six times," Catherine pointed out.

"Let's start with an easy question. Paige Rycoff was a student of yours," Brass wanted to double check.

"Introduction to philosophy, yes," Professor Woodbury nodded before a student popped in after knocking on the door lightly, "Amanda…uh, I'll talk to you tomorrow after class."

"Cute," Catherine said after she left, "Let me guess – C student?"

"Not if I can help it," Professor Woodbury answered.

As they continued to question him, Grissom noticed something on the floor near the couch. When he picked it up, he immediately recognized it. A piece of broken pottery.

"And what kind of student was Paige?" Catherine asked.

"She was a very bright young woman," Professor Woodbury answered honestly.

"Some circumstantial evidence is very strong as when you find a trout in the milk," Grissom recited.

"Henry David Thoreau," Professor Woodbury identified, "But that's just broken pottery."

"My perception – sign of struggle," Grissom retorted causing Professor Woodbury to fall silent, "OK. Look. It's been six days. If you have a legitimate reason for being outside her dorm, tell us. If you have an illegitimate reason, tell us that. Tell us something so that we can move forward. Again, my perception – silence confirms guilt."

"We found you. We will find out what you're hiding," Catherine promised as she, Brass and Grissom prepared to leave.

"I'm married," Professor Woodbury told them.

"Yep. The ring indicates that," Catherine stated dryly.

"Your car's on the way to the Crime Lab. We're going to need to search your home," Brass decreed.

"She was never in my car; she was never in my house," Professor Woodbury protested.

"Where has she been?" Brass demanded.

"Here. That's how the vase broke. Because we were…," Professor Woodbury trailed off.

"Physical," Catherine finished.

"Amorous," Professor Woodbury corrected.

"Oh, so you cared about her? But obviously not enough to come forward," Catherine said.

"And tell you what? That I cheat on my wife with my student who is missing and I have absolutely no information?" Professor Woodbury retorted.

"If it was important enough for you to hide, it's important enough for us to know," Grissom shot back.

"Any idea where she might be" Catherine asked.

"No. I…I went to the dorm. I-I did. I went to, I don't know, maybe to stop her, maybe to say goodbye one last time. But at the very least, I wanted to see her. But she never came down," Professor Woodbury confessed.

"Let's take a ride in the black-and-white," Brass suggested.

"Can I meet you there?" Professor Woodbury pleaded them, "I-I'm not going anywhere. I just need a little time to explain all this to my wife."

"No, I understand," Brass reassured him, "I'll send an officer with you just in case."

"Thank you," Professor Woodbury thanked.

* * *

Nick and Sara went through every single compartment of the car, including the items in it such as the golf bag he had in the boot. Eventually, he found something interesting caught under the passenger seat headrest.

Strands of light-coloured hair.

* * *

"Medulla, cuticle and cortex are a visual match to the hairs I pulled from Paige Rycoff's brush. The roots have skin tags," Greg reported after looking at the samples under a microscope.

"Means hairs were ripped at the root," Nick realized.

"Too bad this doesn't get us any closer to finding Paige," Sara remarked.

"She was in his car. It gets us closer to the suspect," Nick pointed out.

* * *

"Let me remind you, you have right to counsel," Brass reminded him.

"I don't need counsel. The only person I was hiding from was my wife. She knows everything now. So ask your questions," Professor Woodbury said.

"We found some of Paige's hair in your car," Grissom told him.

"Well that's impossible because she's never been in my car. Are you sure it was hers?" Professor Woodbury asked.

"You mean, un, will it stand up in court? Yes it will," Grissom nodded.

"Well, maybe it was on my sweater or something," Professor Woodbury shrugged.

"Four strands of hair, pulled out by the root, on the passenger's headrest," Grissom added to his earlier statement.

"I don't know…," Professor Woodbury trailed off.

"How about this one? A phone call made from your house to Paige's dorm room the day she disappeared," Brass said.

"I only use my cell phone when I call her – not my office, not my home," Professor Woodbury retorted.

"12:16pm. Four minutes long," Brass shot back

"Faculty lunch that day. 12:00 to 2:00. Every department head. And it will stand up in court," Professor Woodbury promised.

"Professor Woodbury, does your wife work?" Grissom asked randomly.

"No," Professor Woodbury answered quickly…to quickly for Brass and Grissom's liking, "no."

* * *

"So, are you home during the day?" Brass asked his wife, Sharon, in the hallway.

"Sometimes," Sharon muttered.

"Were you home around twelve o'clock on the day that Paige Rycoff disappeared?" Brass questioned.

"I don't remember," Sharon said.

"Sharon, someone called Paige from the house and it wasn't me," Professor Woodbury told her.

"Mrs Woodbury, do you have the keys to your husband's car?" Brass wanted to know.

"We share it, it's our car," Sharon corrected.

"How long have you known?" Professor Woodbury asked, suddenly figuring out that she knew.

"About this one or all the others?" Sharon sniped before confessing, "I knew she was different. And I wasn't about to let some kid walk away with my marriage. So I called her up. Took her for a ride. Explained the facts of life to her – wife, three kids, mortgage. She said it was over. She was going home. Didn't say why. I didn't ask."

"Mrs Woodbury, I think you're leaving something out," Grissom said.

"They found Paige's hair in the car and they think…," Professor Woodbury once again trailed off, "Did you attack her?"

"No. I wanted to. I almost did," Sharon admitted, "She went to get out of the car."

_Begin flashback_

_Sharon pulled up in front of the dorm after taking Paige for a ride around the university, explaining to her the facts of life._

"_You are 18. What the hell do you know about love?" Sharon demanded._

"_I don't need to take this," Paige muttered as she went to get out…only to have her hair get caught, "Ow!"_

_And she left._

_End flashback_

"I stopped her. Apologized. We talked. And I dropped her off," Sharon finished her story as Grissom began to ring.

"Excuse me," Grissom muttered.

"Yeah," Brass nodded as he walked away.

"Grissom," Grissom answered the phone.

* * *

The phone call led Grissom to a garbage facility with his CSI kit. There was a coroner's van parked near where he parked his Tahoe. Warrick was standing by.

"So, is it her?" Grissom asked.

"I don't know. I just got here myself. Some homeless guy searching for hidden treasure finds a body. P.D's here on the scene. We got first looks," Warrick answered as they ducked under the tape.

"Right here," an officer gestured to them.

Grissom and Warrick saw where the officer was pointing his light. Surrounding them were blocks of garbage. They were interested in one thing. A dead body…and it was Paige Rycoff.

"Yeah," Warrick muttered softly.

* * *

"I've seen things like this before. When I worked in Arlington, Virginia, every winter homeless trying to stay warm take a nap in a dumpster. Wake up in a garbage compactor. Mulch," Doc Robbins remarked.

"Warrick and I searched the trash cute at the dorm. It was clean. There was no reason to check the dumpster," Catherine pointed out.

"So you're saying she was killed by the compactor. Crushed to death," Grissom surmised.

"No. She was crushed post-mortem," Doc Robbins corrected.

"And you know this how?" Grissom demanded.

"Tissue in the extremities was yellow and dry. Means blood wasn't bumping through her veins when she went through that compactor," Doc Robbins explained.

"So what did kill her?" Catherine asked.

"Massive internal bleeding. Her spleen ruptured," Doc Robbins answered.

"From what?" Grissom wanted to know.

"Blunt-force trauma," Doc Robbins replied.

"Point of impact?" Catherine pressed.

"Rib cage. Ribs weren't crushed. They sustained a single blow," Doc Robbins replied.

"Type of weapon?" Grissom asked.

"I have no idea," Doc Robbins confessed, "I'm still trying to straighten her out. Truth? I may never know."

"Now what?" Catherine sighed.

"Well, you followed the lead. It went cold. Now it's hot again," Grissom proclaimed.

* * *

That was how the entire CSI team found themselves back in the alleyway around the dumpster. They were examining all angles. Catherine was searching near a tarp on the side of the road. Nick and Grissom were working the exterior of the dumpster while Sara and Warrick were inside the dumpster.

"I found some blood," Warrick announced.

"Yeah. Not much. But enough to work with," Sara added.

"OK. Photograph it. Swab it. Let's get it back to the lab," Grissom instructed.

"If it hers, maybe that's why the scent dogs lost their trail. The odour from the dumpster would've…thrown them off," Catherine pointed out.

"Hey. I think I got something here. Check this out. The whole dumpster's beat to hell. This one spot's fresh," Nick observed before Grissom looked at it closer through his magnifying glass.

"Nick's right," Grissom agreed, "The vehicle paint chips metal flecks in the colour coat."

"There's some matching chips on the ground," Catherine said as she collected it.

"Still, there's no reason to think there's a connection between the paint transfer and Paige," Sara protested.

"No reason to think there's not," Grissom retorted.

"Possibly a hit-and-run? Means the vehicle had a high ground clearance. Maybe an SUV?" Nick shrugged.

"It would explain the blunt-force trauma," Catherine pointed out, "Point of Impact was her abdomen."

"Drive tossed her in the dumpster to hide his crime," Warrick surmised.

"Or her crime," Grissom corrected.

"Mrs Woodbury," Catherine said.

"She's still a viable suspect," Grissom stated.

"But with a silver car," Catherine protested.

"She could have rented. Borrowed it from a friend," Sara offered.

"Still, why was Paige even down here?" Nick pondered as he looked up at the garbage chute.

"Look. Let's stick with the how. We'll deal with the why later," Grissom promised.

* * *

"The car that impacted the dumpster was originally white then painted red and now it's black," Grissom observed as he and Nick looked at the results from the paint analysis of the paint chips they collected from the dumpster.

"There's two coats of primer between each paint job. Quality work – probably a dealership," Nick shrugged.

"Every paint has a unique light absorption rate. We I.D the paint, we get to the car," Grissom said.

"Really?" Nick asked before hitting the space bar on the keyboard which revealed the results, "Cherokee, '89 or '90. Three paint jobs. All factory stock. Stone white, flame red and there's your midnight black there.

"Well, this narrows our scope," Grissom remarked, "Call Brass."

"Done. An hour ago," Nick answered.

* * *

"Where you been?" Warrick demanded as he and Grissom met up in the hallway.

"I can't be everywhere, Warrick, and they banned human cloning," Grissom stated dryly.

"I just left Sanders. The blood from the dumpster matches Paige," Warrick announced, causing Warrick to look at Grissom as Nick caught up with them.

"Hey. Brass just called. He's down at P.D. Paint to car; car to driver. Suspect's down there – he's looking for you," Nick told him.

* * *

"Expectant father," Brass said to Grissom as he arrived in the interrogation room where Brass was interrogating Mark Doyle.

"My wife's pregnant. Almost nine months. She beeped me. I was trying to get home. Couldn't believe the traffic," Mark said sheepishly.

"You always drive through campus?" Brass asked with a sigh.

"We live on the other side of fraternity row. It's a straight shot form my office. But I get to the university dorm, nothing's moving," Mark began explaining.

"What time is this?" Brass wanted to know.

"Around 8:30, I guess," Mark shrugged.

"So you took a shortcut?" Brass surmised.

"Yeah. I thought I was having a baby so I gunned it down the alley. If I had hit a car, I would've stopped," Mark promised, "But it…it was just a dumpster."

* * *

"Paint transfer's green. Just like the dumpster," Catherine observed.

"Doesn't mean he didn't also hit a body," Grissom protested.

"We have sprayed, U.V'd – no hair, no fibres, no blood anywhere," Warrick retorted.

"It was a clean strike against the dumpster," Sara proclaimed as Nick rolled out from under the car on a dolly.

"Your guy didn't hit Paige," Nick sighed as he stood.

"And we've chased another lead to a dead end," Catherine muttered.

"We still have Mrs Woodbury," Sara pointed out.

"Or her husband," Nick piped in.

"Oh, we've got tons of motives. Not a stick of evidence," Warrick reminded them.

"H.L Mencken once said, 'There's an easy solution to every human problem – neat, plausible…and wrong.' So if the solution is not neat, plausible and wrong; then it could be messy, unlikely and right. Right? A butterfly flaps its wings in Brazil. We get a hurricane of the coast of Florida. Chaos theory," Grissom remarked.

"Here we go," Nick muttered. **(AN: That's what I think whenever I have IT.)**

"Random events; the wholesale rejection of linear thought," Grissom said.

"Physics meets philosophy," Warrick smirked.

"If we apply it to Paige Rycoff and our case at this particular moment in time, then we can say, 'Life is unpredictable,'" Grissom decreed.

"No one can predict more than a few seconds into the future," Catherine pointed out.

"I predict I'll still be standing here one minute from now," Nick remarked.

"Where are we going with this?" Warrick asked.

"Paige was in her dorm room and then ended up in the dumpster. Somewhere between her dorm room and the dumpster is our answer. That's where we're going. Coming, Nick?" Grissom asked, causing Nick to smile as he got caught.

"Nice try, Nostradamus," Warrick chuckled.

* * *

"Look out the window. What do you see?" Grissom asked.

Sara turned around to face Grissom. However, he didn't see Sara. And it wasn't even the current day. He was seeing Paige Rycoff on the night she died.

"Traffic. My cab's waiting for me," Sara/Paige answered.

"So what do you do next?" Grissom questioned.

"Grab my suitcases…get out of town," Paige replied as she went to grab her suitcases.

"Stop. Suitcases never left the room. You didn't take them with you," Grissom protested.

"I've been cleaning all day," Paige said.

"Because you want your security deposit back," Grissom pointed out.

"Yeah. I have to leave the room exactly like I found it," Paige/Sara said.

"So what's missing?" Grissom asked.

"Two box springs, two mattresses, two desks, two lamps, two chairs, two dresses," Sara listed, "Trash can? And it's missing."

"What's the last thing you do after you've done the cleaning?" Grissom questioned knowingly.

"Take out the trash," Sara answered before figuring out what he was getting at.

* * *

"Hi. Could I borrow your trash can?" Grissom asked the residents of room 412.

"Paige dumps the trash, goes back to her room. How does she end up in the dumpster?" Sara wanted to know as she opened the chute door.

"You're thinking too linear," Grissom criticized, "Chaos Theory, remember? Just dump it."

"OK," Sara nodded before the garbage chute almost took her hand and the chute, "Whoa! Almost took my hand off!"

"Maybe you were quicker than Paige was," Grissom shrugged as he noticed a student walking by as an idea began to form in his head, "Excuse me. Could you do me a favour? We're doing a little experiment. Could you count to a hundred and then drop this can all the way down the chute? Thanks. Watch your fingers."

With that said, Sara and Grissom began racing out of the dorm towards the dumpster. There, they met Catherine, Warrick, Nick and Kady. No sooner than they had reached the dumpster, they heard the loud clang of the trash can falling through the chute and landing in the dumpster.

"What the hell was going on?" Catherine demanded as Nick had to stop Kady from trembling in fear.

"Please tell me you're intention wasn't to scare my daughter," Nick pleaded as he rubbed her back in a soothing fashion.

"Sorry," Grissom and Sara apologized.

"There was a busted spring in the chute," Grissom told everyone.

"Oh yeah. I had to prop that open when Catherine was rappelled down," Warrick recalled.

"Relevance?" Catherine wanted to know.

"The trash can was missing from Paige's room," Grissom pointed out.

"You're thinking she accidently dropped it down the chute. Then how did she end up in the dumpster?" Nick asked.

"She wanted her security deposit back," Sara answered.

"And there's no easy access here," Warrick stated.

"Right. So…she had to improvise," Catherine said before saying to Nick and Kady, "Excuse me."

"Oh. Please," Nick and Kady nodded as they moved out of the way.

"Do you ever get tired of the twin thing?" Sara asked.

"Nope," Nick and Kady chorused together, popping the 'p' and with identical facial expressions.

"This actually happened to me once before, with a set of keys. Eddie and I had this huge blowout. He threw my keys in the trash," Catherine recalled before getting back on track, "Alright. So Paige leans over, reaches for the trash can."

"But just then, here comes Mark Doyle," Grissom added.

That was when they figured out everything. They figured out what really killed Paige. She was scaling the dumpster against the wall trying to reach in for the trash can to regain her security deposit. Her weight against the side of the dumpster caused the dumpster to roll out into the alley. However, Mark Doyle came tearing out of nowhere trying to reach his pregnant wife. His SUV swerved to avoid the van and he ended up colliding with the dumpster. The impact caused the dumpster to smash into the wall…and, consequently, Paige. She cried out in pain and fell into the dumpster unconscious.

She died in minutes.

* * *

"Let me get this straight. You're saying a confluence of unrelated, unfortunate events conspired…to kill my daughter," Mr Rycoff surmised what Grissom just told them.

"Yes," Grissom nodded.

"No, no, no. Somebody is responsible," Mrs Rycoff shook her head.

"Mrs Rycoff, there is no one guilty of this," Grissom repeated his earlier statements.

"Because you say so?" Mrs Rycoff scoffed as she and her husband stood.

"Because the evidence says so," Grissom corrected.

"We'll hire an investigator, as many as necessary. Someone killed Paige and my wife and I won't rest until every question is answered," Mr Rycoff decreed as he and his wife stormed out.

"We told them what happened," Grissom said.

"Yeah, but we didn't give them what they needed – some closure," Catherine sighed.

"Truth brings closure," Grissom protested.

"Not always," Catherine retorted.

"I just came back from dropping Kadelin off at Emily's house. Saw Mr and Mrs Rycoff on the way out. I take it they refused to believe what you told them," Nick guessed as he sat before them.

"We suspected foul play as soon as we got the call. We followed the evidence where it led. Eventually, we found out that it was a series of unfortunate events that killed Paige Rycoff," Grissom listed.

"I don't know, boss. If something like that happened to Kady, I'd probably be the same way," Nick shrugged.

"Kadelin's a 4-year-old pre-kindergarten student, Nick. Paige Rycoff was an 18-year-old college freshman. You are thinking of two different scenarios," Grissom protested.

"No it's not. And I'm sure, since she is a mother, Catherine would agree with me on this. It doesn't matter if your child is one or one hundred. He or she is still your baby no matter what. And, I know for a fact that if my daughter vanishes into thin air or is kidnapped and killed, I'd do whatever it takes to find her and bring her home," Nick decreed before changing the subject, "Do you have a case for me?"

"419 at the Monaco. Take Warrick with you," Grissom answered as he handed him the sheet.

Nick nodded and left. Once he was out of sight, Grissom wiped his tired eyes with a sigh.

"Are you alright?" Catherine asked.

"The Jedi becomes the Padawan. The student becomes the teacher. The son becomes the father. And the father, the son," Grissom recited.


	3. Overload

**Overload: Grissom is convinced a construction worker was electrocuted after he falls from the twelfth story of a construction site. However, he has to go through heaps of trouble to prove his theory when the evidence doesn't immediately support this and the Sheriff doesn't have a hard time believing that it was a suicide rather than an intentional homicide. Meanwhile, Catherine finds out a startling secret about Nick's past when they work the case of a teenage boy who appears to have died of a grand mal seizure during a therapy session.**

**Next, Bully for You: Everyone begins to think about what they were like during their high school years when the class clown is discovered dead in the boy's bathroom at a local high school. However, Grissom, Warrick and Catherine soon discover that their victim bullied the majority of his fellow students, giving them a lot of suspects. Meanwhile, a badly decomposed body is found in a leather bag and Sara and Nick have to figure out who this person is and how they died.**

**Then, Scuba Doobie-Doo: A former tenant leaves behind a blood-splattered apartment, a missing girlfriend and an interesting investigation for Grissom, Warrick and Sara. Meanwhile, an urban legend could turn out to be fact as Catherine and Nick investigate the death of a scuba diver that was found on top of a tree after a forest fire.**

**Later, Alter Boys: What appears to be a clear-cut investigation still manages to baffle Grissom, Nick and Sara when a young man is caught burying a murder victim in the desert. Meanwhile, Warrick and Catherine have to work out what caused the death of a young woman in a hotel spa.**

**Remaining episodes:**

**Caged  
****Slaves of Las Vegas (excited!)  
****And Then They Were None  
****Ellie  
****Organ Grinder  
****You've Got Male  
****Identity Crisis  
****The Finger  
****Burden of Proof  
****Primum Non Nocere  
****Felonious Monk  
****Chasing the Bus  
****Stalker (*shudder* Dreading that one…)  
****Cats in the Cradle  
****Anatomy of a Lye  
****Cross Jurisdictions (backdoor pilot to CSI: Miami)  
****The Hunger Artist**

**I own nothing aside from Kady.**

**ENJOY!**

* * *

Like many people see at a construction site, there were many busy little workers. They operated like they do everyday. Sawing wood. Drilling holes. Digging the ground. Pouring cement. And for the supervisor, Robert Harris, keeping everyone in line and making sure they meet the deadline. And part of the job is telling off those who arrive late to their shift.

"You're late," Robert said to a fellow worker in the truck.

"Thursday night. Traffic on the Strip," the worker defended himself.

"Yeah. Every night. Traffic on the Strip," Robert rolled his eyes, "We're on a deadline. Let's go."

However, something happened that would delay construction further; even if they're ahead. A yellow hard hat fell out of the sky and landed on the truck's windshield, cracking it and creating a spiderweb pattern. Immediately, the supervisor looked up, wondering where it came from. When he looked up, he was shocked. Following the hard hat…

Was a dead body.

* * *

"Man versus Gravity," Grissom said as he looked up above him then down below at the body in a pool of blood, "Man lost."

"I think that was the point," Robert remarked.

"Hello, Bob," Sheriff Brian Mobley greeted his dear friend.

"Hello, Brian," Robert nodded.

"Grissom, what are you doing here?" Brian demanded.

"What do you think?" Grissom asked casually.

"I didn't use the word homicide," Brian protested.

"Dispatch called. The body's on county property," Grissom retorted.

"We're not looking at a crime here. Bob explained it to me on the phone. His guy was alone up there. He jumped. It was suicide," Brian returned fire.

"Then why are you here, Sheriff?" Grissom shot back, causing Brian to go quiet.

"Look. Roger Valinti was an unhappy guy. Money problems. Family problems. He took the easy way out," Robert shrugged.

"It's a tragedy. But it's not a crime," Brian decreed.

"Suicide, huh? I don't know, Brian. On the day you decide to end your life, why would you go to work?" Grissom asked.

Insert title credits here

"Fourteen hundred new beds means fourteen hundred criminals off the street. That old jail's maxed. Prisoner population's increased by ten per cent in one year. If this place isn't built soon, you do the math," Brian said to Grissom as they rode the elevator towards the top floor.

"You look like the Sheriff but you talk like the Mayor," Grissom said to Brian before turning to Robert, "Mr Harris, you get an extra bonus for early completion?"

"Twenty grand a day. I'm ten days ahead," Robert boasted proudly.

"Wow. $200000. You must work your guys pretty hard, huh?" Grissom remarked as the elevator stopped and they walked out, "Where exactly was Valenti's work station?"

"He had the whole floor to himself. Valenti was usually my first guy up. He would drill holes for the safety cables. No one walks a new slab until the cables are looped around the perimeter," Robert answered.

"Terminal velocity's 9.8 metres per second squared. He would've hit the ground in under five seconds," Grissom said as he picked up the drill that was hanging off the side of the floor, "Did this belong to Mr Valenti?"

"Well, like I said, he was the only one up here," Robert said dryly.

"This drill is shorted out," Grissom observed as he noticed the metal housing was charred, "Do you think he 'jumped' before or after he got the shock of his life?"

"GFCI would have prevented shock," Robert protested.

"What is GFCI?" Brian asked.

"The Ground Fault Circuit Interrupter," Robert answered.

"Big words meaning you won't get electrocuted," Grissom surmised as he moved to examine the plug in the outlet and noticed that the third prong had been cut off.

"You see, if there's an electrical imbalance, the GFCI trips the circuit and the tools are suppose to shut itself off," Robert explained.

"But if the third prong of the plug is compromised, the interrupter won't work. Will it, Bob?" Grissom wanted to know.

"The third prong grounds the drill. Without it, the interrupter's useless," Robert told him.

"These prongs don't usually snap off by themselves. Are all your workers this careless with their tools?" Grissom suddenly asked as he noticed the metal cutters nearby.

"You mind telling me what you're doing?" Brian asked Grissom as he began setting up a chamber with a plexi-glass, portable evidence box to superglue the prints on the handle.

"These cutters may have been used to tamper with the grounding prong," Grissom told him.

"What happened to good old-fashioned dusting for prints?" Brian demanded.

"When your crime scene is twelve stories up, I don't want to take any chances. I'm gonna lock in these prints," Grissom decreed.

* * *

"Hey, O'Riley," Catherine greeted Detective O'Riley as she and Nick walked up to the house, "We got the 419."

"Dylan Buckley. 14 years old," O'Riley began explaining as he pointed to Dylan lying dead on the floor in his white boxers, "Paramedics pronounced. Coroner's on his way."

"Was he home alone?" Nick asked, suddenly glad he left Kady with Greg at the DNA lab.

"Not alone. And not his home," O'Riley corrected as a woman dressed in a white pantsuit approached them, "Catherine Willows, Nick Stokes, Crime Lab. Dr Leigh Sapien. This is her residence."

"Well, good. Then you can fill us in," Catherine said.

"We were in the middle of a session," Dr Sapien began explaining.

"You're a therapist," Catherine guessed.

"Psychiatrist," Dr Sapien corrected.

"And why were you seeing Dylan?" Catherine asked.

"Doctor-Patient privilege," Dr Sapien answered.

"Privilege doesn't extend post-mortem," Nick protested.

"We can always get a warrant to get your records," Catherine offered.

"No need. Dylan suffered from Reactive Attachment Disorder. He was with his mother and I've been treating him for sixteen months," Dr Sapien revealed.

"Ten o'clock at night. You use your home?" Catherine asked.

"I see my patients whenever they need me. On weekends. At night. At the office or here…," Dr Sapien began listing.

"Why don't you just tell us what happened?" Nick interrupted.

"Dylan had an argument with his mother. He needed to unload. He was complaining about his curfew, blaming his mother for problems at school. Suddenly, he began to convulse. I tried to stabilize his head. I thought it was a grand mal seizure. Dylan was an epileptic. He hit his head. And when the convulsions stopped, he was dead," Dr Sapien explained.

"Did you try to revive him?" Catherine wanted to know.

"Of course. Standard CPR. Cleared his airway. Worked his chest," Dr Sapien nodded.

"I take it this wasn't his first convulsion," Nick said as he noticed some kind of fur on her sweater.

"He was diagnosed with epilepsy at age 3," Dr Sapien told them…before she was startled by the way Nick was approaching her, "What are you doing?"

"Catherine, we need to get a tape-lift here, please," Nick requested kindly.

"Look. I dialled 911. I'm not hiding anything!" Dr Sapien decreed as Catherine conducted the tape-lift.

"I can see that," Catherine smirked.

* * *

"Quick. Name three human bones that can stand a twelve story drop," Doc Robbins challenged Grissom as he entered the autopsy room.

"Bones of the inner ear: malleus, incus, stapes. High cellular density, completely protected by the skull. Why?" Grissom wanted to know.

"They appear to be the only bones not fractured or broken," Doc Robbins answered.

"I wanna see the entry and exit wounds," Grissom requested.

"Gil, he wasn't shot. This is the guy that fell off the new jailhouse. Are we talking about the same case here?" Grissom asked.

"He fell after he was electrocuted," Grissom proclaimed.

"News to me. I didn't find any physical evidence of electrocution," Doc Robbins announced.

"Faulty drill. There should be burn on one of his palms," Grissom protested.

"Negative on the burn marks," Doc Robbins said, "In most electrocution cases, capillaries rupture, haemoglobin leaks into the perivascular tissue."

"Right. Creating a fern-like pattern on the chest," Grissom agreed.

"His body contradicts your crime scene," Doc Robbins remarked.

"I don't care what the body says. This guy was electrocuted. It was not an accident," Grissom proclaimed.

* * *

Sara sighed as she kept on staring at the work boots that were laid out before her. Next to her, Grissom was trying to get the outside of the drill off to see what the drill looked like inside. When the rest of the team had arrived and Grissom sent Nick and Catherine off to Dr Sapien's house to investigate Dylan Buckley's death, he told Sara and Warrick they would work with him. And that was how Sara and Grissom ended up in the trace lab. However, she wasn't seeing what he was seeing.

"What?" Grissom asked after hearing Sara sigh.

"I don't know what I'm looking for," Sara admitted.

"Signs of charring or melting. You've done this before," Grissom stated dryly.

"Yeah. But we always go back to the body. The body tells a story and in this case, the body says there was no crime and you're not listening. Why?" Sara wanted to know.

"Every now and then, we have to break the rules. Start with a conclusion and work our way backwards," Grissom answered.

"Like, for instance, when we don't agree with the coroner's report?" Sara guessed.

"Like, for instance, in the 1800s when surgery was Russian Roulette and patients were dying on the tables," Grissom corrected.

"Germs," Sara said.

"Until Louis Pasteur theorized that something we could not see; microscopic organisms were attacking the patients," Grissom finished his earlier correction.

"Relevance?" Sara pressed.

"Bodies tell a story because we interpret them the way our predecessors taught us to. Just because we don't see something we're supposed to see doesn't mean it's not there," Grissom said before he noticed the hot wire was crossed with the neutral wire, "Wires were crossed. Polarity's been reversed. This confirms that someone tampered with Valenti's drill."

"The rubber soles of his boots should have protected him from the electrical shock. That's why you're safe when you're in a car during a lightning storm. You're insulated by the rubber ties," Sara pointed out as she held up the boots…which caused them to notice the nail in the soles.

"Rubber's an insulator. But metal's a conductor. What forms of metal hides in plain view at a construction sight?" Grissom asked.

"A nail," Sara answered, causing them both to smile.

* * *

"Hey," Sara greeted Warrick as she walked into the print lab.

"Hey," Warrick responded.

"How's that palm prints Grissom got off those cutters?" Sara asked.

"Good. I'm running it through AFIS right now. The good thing is that the jailhouse is a union gig and all the union guys are already in the database. What I did for the print was I lined up a ridge detail from the partial that I found on each handle," Warrick explained what he did.

"Nice," Sara complimented.

Warrick sighed before asking, "So…you think that guy fried before he fell?"

"I don't know. We found a nail in his boot. It could have pierced the protective rubber. It might have allowed electricity to course through his body," Sara answered.

"Bobby Dawson's taking odds. Two to one: Grissom's wrong. Five to one: he gets suspended for shutting down that jailhouse. And ten to one…," Warrick trailed off.

"Fired?" Sara guessed.

Before Warrick could answer, the computer began to beep, indicating a match. Manually, Warrick lined up the two palm prints and the match was confirmed.

It was Robert Harris.

"Sounds like you got a match."

Warrick and Sara both jumped at the sound of the voice. Now they're in for it… Slowly, they turned around and saw Grissom standing there holding Kady in his arms. She had her blue backpack on her back, indicating she had just come back from school.

"Hey, Gris. How long have you been standing there?" Warrick asked before saying to Kady, "Hey, Elmo. Do you have cookies for the Cookie Monster?"

"Yeah, yeah, we do. The, um…it's a former union guy turned night shift project manager," Sara interrupted.

"Robert Harris. Does that name mean anything?" Warrick wanted to know.

"Yeah. Especially if you bet against me," Grissom smirked as he placed Kady in Warrick's lap with a kiss on the cheek before leaving.

"You are a lifesaver," Warrick cooed as he took the bag of cookies she offered with a kiss to the cheek.

"Where's daddy?" Kady asked.

"He and Aunty Cathy are working a case right now, KT. But you get to stay with us," Sara smiled, "Hey. Where's my kiss?"

Warrick smiled as Kady lent over and kissed Sara on the cheek. Everyone enjoyed Kady's hugs and kisses as they brought sunshine to their day.

Especially the CSIs after a tough case.

* * *

"My prints are on the metal cutters because my prints are all over everything at the site. I'm the project manager," Robert stated dryly.

"There's no mystery there," Brian said.

"You're the project manager. But you don't actually use all the tools, right?" Grissom asked.

"I'm vigilant about safety. I'm always inspecting the equipment, tools," Robert began listing what the job requires of him.

"Look. This is what's going to happen here. The construction site is going to reopen and the investigation goes away," Brian decreed.

"Sure. After the lab processes all the evidence," Grissom nods before hearing a tap on the glass wall that indicated Brass' presence, "Excuse me."

"For the record, I don't like being put in the middle," Brass remarked as he and Grissom walked down the hallway talking.

"Who does?" Grissom asked.

"I did a little homework on the guy who took a nosedive after he was electrocuted," Brass told him, "Three days ago, he was voted union rep. Demanded more overtime pay. Pressed for a walkout."

"Motive?" Grissom said.

"Right," Brass nodded, "Well, in cause you're interested, Bob Harris was the sheriff's best man."

"Well, what was that about?" Brian demanded as Grissom returned to them.

"Ah, we're in a bowling league together," Grissom joked.

"Can we wrap this up?" Brian sighed.

"Sure. Someone tampered with Roger Valenti's drill. And I have only one suspect," Grissom decreed as he looked at Robert.

"I read the coroner's prelim. There is nothing in it about electrocution," Brian protested.

"That's why they call it a prelim. Mr harris, were you opposed to Roger Valenti's union activities?" Grissom asked.

"Of course not. I'm a union man myself," Robert answered.

"You're fishing, Gil. We're done here. Moving on," Brian declared as he and Robert left Grissom standing there with a grim expression on his face.

Proving his theory was going to be harder than he first thought.

* * *

In the lab, Nick opened the package of evidence collected from the crime scene and Dylan himself. Among them were the clothes Dylan was wearing when he died: a shirt, a pair of pants and the boxers he was found in. Immediately, he found something interesting: tan-coloured fibres on his boxers. This interested him because it was the same tan-coloured fibre they collected off of Dr Sapien when they questioned her at the scene. When he checked the shirt and the pants, he found nothing. It led him to wonder…

What happened at that house?

* * *

"Mrs Buckley, do you have someone to drive you home?" Doc Robbins asked Mrs Buckley as he led her out of the autopsy room, earning no answer from her, "Mrs Buckley?"

"Yes?" Mrs Buckley responded.

"Do you have someone to drive you home?" Doc Robbins repeated his earlier question.

"No, uh, thank you. I'll be alright," Mrs Buckley answered as she made her way down the hallway…and ran into Nick.

"Mrs Buckley? I'm Nick Stokes. I'm from the Crime Lab. I've been assigned to your son's case," Nick introduced himself.

"Crime lab?" Mrs Buckley repeated in confusion.

"It's protocol," was all Nick said.

"We were just having pizza together. He seemed fine. And I dropped him off at Dr Sapien's and…my husband passed away three years ago and now my…," Mrs Buckley trailed off, too distraught to continue, "My baby's gone."

"I understand," Nick murmured.

Being a father himself, Nick immediately understood how Mrs Buckley was feeling. Had something like this happened to Kady, he'd be the same way. Maybe worse.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to go make arrangements," Mrs Buckley said.

"Sure," Nick nodded as she walked past him. She was stopped however by Nick saying to her without turning around, "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," Mrs Buckley muttered before leaving.

_This is going to be a hard case._ Nick thought to himself.

* * *

"My youngest just turned 14," Doc Robbins sighed as Nick walked into the room, "Tough age."

"Cause of death?" Nick asked in a monotone voice.

"Cranial-cerebral injuries. Comminuted fractures of the occipital bone," Doc Robbins answered.

"Injuries consistent with a grand mal seizure?" Nick wanted to know.

"First blush? Yes. Waiting on toxicology," Doc Robbins nodded, "In the meantime, check out his torso."

"He's covered in bruises," Nick observed, "Possibly from being thrashed during the seizure?"

"Possibly," Doc Robbins agreed.

"I found tan fibres on his boxers," Nick admitted.

"You too, huh? His body's covered in them," Doc Robbins said.

"Fibres on his body and his underwear but not on his shirt and pants. Why?" Nick pondered.

"Well, maybe it was as simple as he wasn't wearing his shirt and pants," Doc Robbins shrugged.

"OK. Then at some point, he was with his shrink in his underwear," Nick sighed.

"Exactly what kind of therapy was this?" Doc Robbins demanded before noticing Nick's expression, "Cases involving children are always the hardest. Especially when you have children of your own."

"It got worse when Kady was born," Nick sighed, deciding to keep his childhood trauma a secret.

"Nick, I know for a fact that during my time here, I will never see Kadelin on this autopsy table. Because she has you as her father. Not many parents would go to the lengths you do to protect their sons or daughters. I know for a fact that you would lay down your life for her," Doc Robbins tried to reassure him.

"It's parents that don't wanna lay down their lives for their kids that don't deserve them," Nick muttered as he walked out.

That was when Doc Robbins couldn't help but wonder…

Is there something deeper?

* * *

Grissom was walking out of his car as he parked in the parking lot at the police department. With Kady settled on his hip, he began walking towards the entrance of the building. However, a man who held employment at the same construction site Roger Valenti lost his life stopped him as soon as the soles of his shoes touched the sidewalk. His name was Ian Wolf. And he had information…

That was really lies.

"Gil Grissom?" Ian asked.

"Yes," Grissom nodded.

"I have information about Roger Valenti," Ian decreed.

"Call Jim Brass at homicide," Grissom instructed before turning to leave…only to be stopped by Ian again.

"I was the union rep before Roger. The walkout was my idea. Bob Harris threatened me and my family. I wouldn't betray the union so I gave up my position at the local. Roger picked up where I left off," Ian explained to Grissom.

"Why are you telling me this?" Grissom wanted to know.

"Because if could have been me," Ian answered.

Now things get interesting…

"What was that about?" Kady asked Grissom innocently.

"It's just a case I'm working on, honey," Grissom told her.

"That guy that fell?" Kady guessed.

"Have Warrick and Sara been discussing the case with you?" Grissom asked knowingly.

"Yep," Kady nodded as she hugged her godfather, "Uncle Warrick and I traded cookies for information."

"When did you get so smart?" Grissom pondered as he blew raspberries in the junction of Kady's neck and shoulder, earning giggles from the four-year-old who was fast becoming a daughter to him.

"School," Kady answered.

* * *

"Cheese. Milk. Sweaters. What do these things have in common?" Greg asked Catherine and Nick.

"Goat cheese. Goat milk," Catherine listed.

"Goat…sweaters?" Nick guessed.

"Angora," Catherine corrected.

"Ding, ding, ding. Fibres from the lady shrink, fibres from the boy; both are angora," Greg told them as he handed Catherine an open book.

"Angora is processed goat hair?" Nick asked, earning a hum in agreement from Greg.

"Sheered, washed, spun and dyed. Angora's 100% goat. You didn't know that, Nick?" Catherine smirked as she handed Nick the book Greg gave her and left.

"Must be a chick thing," Nick remarked, earning a laugh from Greg, "Well, I remember what angora is now. Because Kadelin's allergic to angora."

"How bad?" Greg immediately wanted to know.

"Sneezing, runny nose, hives," Nick listed.

"May wanna keep her away from me until I have a shower and change my clothes," Greg warned, "You too."

"She's with Grissom, Sara and Warrick on their case concerning that guy who died at the construction site. To be honest, I'd rather have her with them than involved in this case," Nick admitted.

"Because it involves kids?" Greg guessed, though it sounded more like a statement than an actual guess.

"Among other things," Nick muttered, hoping Greg wouldn't hear this.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Greg demanded, worried for his best friend.

"Nevermind. Hey. Let me know if you find anything else, will you?" Nick requested kindly as he turned to leave.

"Yeah," Greg nodded as Nick left, leaving him to his thoughts.

What is wrong with Nick?

* * *

"I need to see the body again," Grissom requested as he stopped Doc Robbins from closing for the night.

"No can do. Released six hours ago," Doc Robbins told him.

"Final report?" Grissom asked.

"Another 24. But there's nothing in there to support Valenti was electrocuted," Doc Robbins warned.

"Doc, please?" Grissom pleaded him.

"You want to look at my notes?" Doc Robbins guessed before opening the doors.

* * *

"So what have you got? I mean, anything unusual. Even the mundane," Grissom requested as they looked at the file containing Doc Robbin's autopsy notes.

"His troponin enzymes are elevated," Doc Robbins revealed.

"Troponin levels become elevated following ventricular fibrillation which could be caused by electrocution, right?" Grissom guessed.

"Sure. But troponin's found in all victims of cardiac arrest, most of whom have not been zapped," Doc Robbins protested.

"Work with me, will you?" Grissom begged.

"Uh, vic also had an elevated concentration of iron in his blood – six, seven times normal," Doc Robbins decided to give Grissom the satisfaction.

"Life-threatening?" Grissom questioned.

"No," Doc Robbins shook his head.

"What else?" Grissom pressed.

"Well, it first he bill of mundane. His skin looked jaundiced," Doc Robbins recalled.

"Postmortem deoxygenation," Grissom surmised.

"Dead or alive, your vic's epidermis is yellow," Doc Robbins said.

"Tell me about his testicles," Grissom requested.

"What?" Doc Robbins demanded in surprise before noticing Grissom's facial expression, "OK. I'm working with you. Uh, I don't remember. I mean, genetics can be fascinating – and there are things I take note of – but I didn't focus on his genitals."

"Thanks, doc," Grissom thanked.

"You're welcome," Doc Robbins responded as Grissom left.

* * *

"What are you guys doing?" Grissom demanded as he saw Warrick and Sara sitting in the break room.

"Playing with our goddaughter," Warrick answered dryly as he spun the dial and moved his piece on the board, wincing when he landed at the beginning of a snake. **(AN: Guess the game.)**

"Sucked in, Warrick," Sara smirked as she turned the dial and landed on a square with a ladder, "We're also waiting for an assignment. You got a new case for us?"

"A new case?" Grissom repeated in disbelief.

"Yep," Kady nodded as Warrick helped her move her piece (she couldn't reach it), "Thanks, Uncle Warrick."

"No problem, sweet thang," Warrick answered as he poked her sides playfully before turning to Grissom, "We heard the sheriff put the breaks on the investigation."

"You didn't hear this from me, did you?" Grissom retorted.

Greg, who was sitting there watching Sara and Warrick get their butts kicked at the board game Kady wanted to play after kindly declining the offer to join in, immediately got the hint.

"I think I smell something burning in the DNA lab. Love to stay and chat, but…," Greg trailed off as he gathered his things and ran towards the door.

"Greg…I hope that's not the crossword puzzle," Grissom warned, causing Greg to sheepishly hand over the crossword puzzle that he turned into an origami crane.

"It was to entertain my favourite girl!" Greg defended his actions as he ran out.

"What about the nail that we pulled out of Valenti's boot? Dusted?" Grissom asked.

"No. Because…," Sara tariled off.

"Process the nail, please," Grissom interrupted, "And if you get a print…"

"I'll compare it to Bob Harris' ten card. Anything else?" Sara wanted to know as she stood up and spun the dial.

"Yes. Metal cutters. I need you to prove or disprove whether they were used to sever the drill's grounding prong," Grissom instructed.

"OK," Sara nodded as she moved her piece to the finishing square on the board, "I win."

"Aw what?!" Kady and Warrick moaned as Sara kissed Kady's head and settled her on her hip before they left.

"And you're with me," Grissom decreed.

* * *

The place that Warrick and Grissom ended up going to was the local funeral parlour. When they walked in, they heard the cassette player blaring out the Four Season by Vivaldi with the funeral director, Mr Gesek, pretending he was conducting an orchestra rather than embalming the body of Roger Valenti.

"MR GESEK!" Grissom yelled, causing him to turn around, "You're conducting…"

"I didn't hear you come in," Mr Gesek panted as he turned the cassette player off.

"Vivaldi. Four Seasons," Grissom identified.

"Vivaldi…Valenti. Both Italians. It's like being in Venice," Mr Gesek remarked, "Why are you here? Do I need a lawyer?"

"Have you prepped him yet?" Grissom asked.

"I was just about to commence draining when I got distracted," Mr Gesek admitted.

"Yeah, I know, Venice. I need to see his testicles," Grissom requested.

"I always thought there was something weird about you," Mr Gesek remarked as Grissom went to lift the sheet, "Excuse me. You can't just come in here and look at my guy's goods. If I let you see them, I have to let everybody see them. But…perhaps we can work something out."

"What? Do you want us to pay to see them?" Warrick guessed.

"That's a good idea. But no. I'm starting a new business. Crime Scene Cleanup. I'm gonna want some referrals," Mr Gesek said.

"I'll put you on the list," Grissom promised as he lifted the sheet to look at his testicles, "Testicular atrophy. They're the size of peas."

"Poor guy," Mr Gesek remarked.

"Yeah. That's rough," Warrick agreed, "And the significance of this evidence?"

"Hemochromatosis. Valenti had elevated levels of iron in his blood. Yellow pallor, shrunken testicles… I think he's been ingesting trace amounts of iron over a long period of time," Grissom decreed.

"Why'd he eat iron?" Mr Gesek asked.

"Trace amounts are odourless, tasteless," Warrick pointed out.

"He probably didn't even know," Mr Gesek said before asking, "You're saying he was poisoned?"

"No. Iron molecules take a long time to build up. Could have been his diet, repeated blood transfusions, excessive smoking, possibly hereditary abnormalities," Grissom shrugged.

"So where does this get us?" Warrick wanted to know.

"One step closer," Grissom answered, "Mr Gesek? Stick a syringe in his carotid all the way to his clavicle."

"You want his blood?" Warrick repeated.

"One pint. To go," Grissom nodded.

* * *

"Warrick," Sara said as they ran into each other in the hallway.

"Hey," Warrick greeted.

"I got a thumbprint off that nail," Sara boasted.

"Cool," Warrick smiled.

"Only a partial. Print lab's running a comparison," Sara said.

"Whatever happened with those metal cutters?" Warrick asked.

"Serrations didn't match up. They weren't used on the grounding prong. What's in the envelope?" Sara wanted to know.

"Roger Valenti's blood. Grissom wants it packaged in plastic. I don't know. Don't ask," Warrick explained.

"You want lunch?" Sara offered.

"Later," Warrick declined kindly as they went their separate ways.

* * *

"Hey, Catherine," Nick began as he poured some sauce onto his hot dog.

"Yeah?" Catherine responded.

"You ever been in therapy?" Nick asked.

"Who hasn't? Didn't save my marriage," Catherine remarked.

"And you were OK sharing your problems with a complete stranger?" Nick wanted to know.

"Rather I tell them to you?" Catherine retorted, "Women either tell their problems to a girlfriend or a psychiatrist only if it's a last resort. Abby and I used to tell each other problems all the time."

"Really?" Nick said.

"Somebody order a warrant?" O'Riley asked as he arrived at the hot dog stand.

"Yeah," Nick nodded.

"Mustard and relish. Hold the onions," O'Riley requsted.

"I hope it's a general," Nick prayed.

"Epilepsy. Eyewitness physician dials 911. Coroner's not making any noise. You're lucky to get a limited," O'Riley retorted.

"What do you mean we're lucky? We've got fibres on a fourteen-year-old kid and the shrink's clothing!" Nick protested.

"Which would have got you nothing. But I did a background check on the good doctor. While back, she had her license suspended. Sex with a patient. Teen's parents filed a complaint with the A.P.A," O'Riley revealed.

"Sex with a minor?!" Nick repeated in disbelief, "Suspension's a joke! She should have lost her license! Minimum!"

"Yeah, well, this time, maybe she will," Catherine promised.

* * *

"Hey, Gris," Warrick greeted as he walked in on Grissom stripping and rigging the wires on a lamp, "Valenti's blood. Packaged. Ready to go."

"Thank you," Grissom thanked.

"You wanna fill me in here? I mean, this wasn't covered in any science class I took," Warrick remarked.

"Well, iron is a conductive mineral. I wanna know if there was enough iron in Valenti's blood to conduct electricity," Grissom explained.

"That's far out," Warrick said.

"Yeah, well…we'll see. Plug in the blood," Grissom requested.

They did so and Grissom looked extremely pleased with the results.

It lit up like a Christmas tree.

* * *

"Angora fibres?! What does that have to do with anything?" Dr Sapien demanded Nick who was looking for something on the floor, "Excuse me. I don't appreciate being treated like a suspect."

"Then you should wait outside," Nick suggested.

"Do you consider me a suspect? Because that's how I'm feeling," Dr Sapien said, earning no response, "Fine. Don't answer me. It's your choice."

"That's the funny thing about choices. Once you make them, you have to live with them," Nick shook his head, "Dylan Buckley was just a boy. He trusted you and you abused that trust."

"Linen closet. Top shelf," Catherine said as she walked into the room with the blanket wrapped in plastic.

"Was that blanket here…on the floor? Were you and Dylan underneath it?" Nick demanded as images of Dr Sapien molesting Dylan suddenly filled his head, and as a father, he didn't like it, "He was a fourteen-year-old kid. What's the matter with you?"

"He resited; you persisted. Then what?" Catherine wanted to know.

"Look. I don't know the basis of your allegations. But I have never crossed the line with a patient," Dr Sapien protested.

"That's not what your rap sheet says," Nick protested.

"Rap sheet?" Dr Sapien repeated in confusion.

"Sex with an underage patient," Catherine clarified.

"I was a resident. He was 17. We were in… Look. No criminal charges were filed. It should have been expunged from my record," Dr Sapien defended herself.

"It doesn't make you any less guilty," Catherine shot at her.

"Lady, I'm not a saint. But I am not a killer or a child molester. Dylan Buckley was an epileptic. He had a seizure. He hit his head. That's the truth. You don't like it, you can leave," Dr Sapien said.

"We got what we came here for," Nick pointed out.

* * *

"What's going on with you?" Catherine demanded as they left Dr Sapien's residence.

"I'm on a case," Nick defended his actions.

"We're on a case," Catherine corrected.

"Right," Nick muttered.

* * *

"Hey. Is that from the deli?" Grissom asked Sara after raiding the break room fridge and finding nothing.

"Egg salad sandwich. You want half?" Sara offered.

"No," Grissom shook his head, "Can I have your pickle?"

"Yeah," Sara nodded as she handed him her pickle, "You can have it."

"Oh, that's a nice one," Grissom complimented as he walked away.

* * *

Sara and Warrick followed Grissom into the lab after finishing their lunch. They watched Grissom as he plugged a pair of wires into each end of the pickle and it sizzled before glowing like the light Warrick and Grissom were messing around with earlier.

"You turned my pickle into a light bulb," Sara observed.

"I'm electrocuting it," Grissom corrected.

"You sure are," Sara agreed in amusement.

"That would explain that smell," Warrick remarked.

"This is how I cooked my hot dogs in college," Grissom remarked as he unplugged the pickle, "Check out the burn marks."

"There are none," Sara said.

"Just like Valenti's body. No evidence of electrocution," Warrick recalled.

Pickles are high in sodium content," Grissom pointed out.

"And sodium is conductive, just like iron," Warrick added.

"Normally, the flow of electricity through a body generates heat. Burn marks are the physical evidence of that heat. But…if the body offers no resistance to the flow of electricity – no heat, no burn marks," Grissom explained.

"Roger Valenti's body offered up no resistance because of the excess iron in his blood," Warrick realised.

"The iron conducted the electricity," Sara began.

"Making his body one big wire – path to ground," Warrick went on.

"In through his hand from the drill; out through the nail in the boot," Sara finished.

"No burn marks. But we was still electrocuted," Grissom surmised.

"So you've just proved murder," Warrick proclaimed.

"I wouldn't break out that champagne just yet. Don't go shooting the messenger. Thumbprint from the nail," Greg said as he walked in and handed Grissom a piece of paper…

One that had him surprised.

* * *

"Bob Harris' prints were not on the murder weapon. Is that what you're telling me?" Brian asked.

"They were not on the nail. You see, I think that someone stuck a nail in the victim's boot and it evidently wasn't Bob Harris," Grissom told him.

"In other words, you make a suspect out of an innocent man," Brian surmised.

"Obviously, that wasn't my intent," Grissom said as he followed the retreating sheriff.

"Oh, good. Then maybe you'll wanna bring that up in the newspaper article," Brian advised.

"What are you talking about? What newspaper article?" Grissom demanded.

"The one I'm arranging for your public apology," Brian answered.

"I'm not making an apology," Grissom protested.

"Oh yes, you are. You don't go after a friend of mine, sully his reputation and then walk away. Actions have consequences, Gil. Even yours," Brian retorted as he left.

* * *

"I heard the Sheriff chewed you a new one," Brass remarked as he walked into the lab.

"You get my message?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah. You want me to check out your 'Deep Throat?'" Brass double-checked, only to have Grissom hand him a print-out, "Well, that was fast."

"Ian Wolf. Union of Electrical Workers. Local. 37. He wanted to make sure that I stayed on Harris for the murder of Roger Valenti," Grissom revealed.

"Doesn't that tell you something?" Brass asked.

"I told him to talk to you," Grissom said.

"I'll check out the guy," Brass promised, "Gil, why do you do this to yourself?"

"What?" Grissom demanded.

"The guy's dead. It could have been suicide…accident. But you've always gotta push it," Brass sighed.

"Just like any other case," Grissom shrugged.

"You know what I think? Adrenaline. You need the rush. But that's just me," Brass said before leaving.

* * *

"Stokes," David said as he handed Nick the results form the multiple swabs he took off the blanket moments before.

"OK. Thank you, David," Nick nodded.

"No sweat," David responded before leaving and running into Catherine, "Hey. He asked for it."

"How many swabs does it take to process a blanket?" Catherine asked.

"I'm thorough," Nick defended himself.

"The lab tested Dylan Buckley's blood for Creatine Kinase which would be elevated post-seizure…," Catherine began.

"But Dylan Buckley's levels were normal. I just got my own copy of the report. Dr Sapien lied," Nick proclaimed as he walked down the hallway.

"You're racing me, Nick. We're driving the same car. Nick! Nick, I'll have you removed from the case!" Catherine threatened, causing Nick to stop running away from her as she approached him, "You're confronting suspects before the evidence is processed. You're flying solo. Cutting me out. What's going on?"

Nick took a deep breath. He knew that it would come down to this. She's worried about him. A part of him objected to him telling her why. But she's his best friend. Practically his older sister. And he didn't want to miss out on the chance of bringing that boy justice.

"OK. There are some people you're supposed to be able to trust, you know? I was nine. And she was a last-minute babysitter," Nick finally confessed, causing Catherine to stand there stunned, "All I can remember doing afterwards is sitting in my room in the dark, staring at the door waiting for my mum to get home. Up until now, Abby was the only person that knew this."

"I'm sorry!" Catherine gasped.

"It's what makes a person, I guess," Nick muttered, "I'm sorry, Catherine."

"It's not your fault, Nicky. You have nothing to be sorry for," Catherine murmured reassuringly as she held him close, feeling he was about to break, "Is that why you were so worried when you found out Abby was pregnant? Why you won't hire a nanny or a babysitter for Kadelin and insisted you raise her here in the lab?"

"Throughout the pregnancy, I kept on having nightmares of coming home one night and finding my baby – my little girl – sitting in a corner in her room in the dark waiting for me to rescue her. Waiting for me to come home and tell her that it was gonna be alright when it wouldn't be. Then Abby died and I decided to continue working at the lab and raise her myself and…those nightmares didn't happen as often as they used to," Nick sighed, "She should never have to live through something like that."

"She won't with us around," Catherine swore.

* * *

"You checked me out. So what? Worst thing I've done is get a speeding ticket!" Ian scoffed.

"And take a pipe to Roger Valenti's head four days before he died. No. It wasn't on the foreman's report. Valenti's widow told me," Brass retorted.

"It's a work site! Guys get into beefs all the time," Ian pointed out.

"But this guy died and Bob Harris had nothing to do with it!" Brass shot back.

"Despite your efforts to make it seem that way," Grissom piped in.

"Look. I'm not saying another word till I take to a union lawyer. I pay my dues and these guys play hardball," Ian decreed as he stood up, collected his hard hat and tool belt and left.

"He's guilty," Brass decreed.

"Let's not make the same mistake twice," Grissom warned.

* * *

"FYI. Thirty swabs in six hours? Not realistic, alright? Even for me," Greg said to Nick and Catherine.

"Come on, Greg. I thought you liked a challenge. What are we looking at here?" Nick asked.

"Lots and lots of epithelials. There were skin cells shed all over the blanket," Greg answered.

"Dylan Buckley's. Dr Sapien's," Catherine guessed.

"You're two-thirds of the way there," Greg corrected, "I also isolated a set of cells from another individual. Identity unknown. But when it's important to Nick here, I push further. Seven of the thirteen markers matched your dead kid."

"Familial DNA," Catherine surmised.

"Father's dead. Means we're looking at mum," Nick pointed out.

"Naked kid under a blanket at his shrink's late at night and his mother's here," Catherine murmured, wondering what all of this could mean.

"Yeah. Your case just entered a whole new dimension of weird," Greg remarked.

* * *

"Where's Mandy?" Grissom asked as he walked into the print lab and saw Sara sitting at the computer rather then the print expert.

"She's cross-eyed from running our partial. I didn't wanna lose any time. So I took over. The database is 70000. It could still take a while," Sara warned.

"What if I narrowed the scope? To one?" Grissom offered.

"We got a suspect?" Sara asked excitedly.

"Ian Wolf. Like the animal. Not the authors," Grissom answered.

Sara typed in Ian's name and brought up the fingerprints from Ian's work card. When she hit enter, the computer automatically lined up the partial to the full prints. 100% match.

"Partial overlay. Perfect match. Now we're just gotta place him at the crime scene," Sara said.

"Warrick's on it. I got a warrant for his tool belt – metal cutters included," Grissom announced before walking away.

* * *

"Doc? The kid in his underwear… Tell us about the Y-incision," Nick requested kindly as he and Catherine walked into autopsy.

"Leftovers from my anniversary dinner," Doc Robbins said as he gestured to the food he was eating.

"Congratulations," Catherine smiled.

"Thanks. Same tan fibres I found on the outside I found on the inside. Mouth, nasal passages, both lungs," Doc Robbins told them.

"He was wrapped in that blanket," Catherine realized.

"Head to toe," Nick added.

* * *

"Mrs Buckley, we know that your son didn't have a seizure. We also know that you were at Dr Sapien's house with Dylan the night that he died," Catherine told Mrs Buckley and Dr Sapien as she, Nick and O'Riley interviewed them in the interrogation room.

"He was in his underwear wrapped in a blanket fighting for every breath," Nick said.

"I loved my son!" Mrs Buckley gasped.

"That's what every parent says," Nick scoffed, "Only difference being that when I say that to my four-year-old daughter, I actually mean it."

"This…this was therapy. I had tried everything else. Taken him to so many specialists. But I couldn't reach him. So we…we tried the…," Mrs Buckley trailed off as she glanced at Dr Sapien, "I have to tell them."

Silently, Dr Sapien agreed, knowing that they couldn't hide the truth anymore and admitted, "It's called Re-Birthing."

"Re-Birthing?" Nick repeated in confusion.

"It's a technique used to treat extreme behavioural disorders. Idea is to turn back the clock. Wipe the slate clean. Allow the child to re-bond with his mother," Dr Sapien explained.

"What's the blanket for?" Catherine asked.

"It represents the birth canal," Dr Sapien answered.

"So you wrapped Dylan up…beat the hell out of him and hocus-pocus, he's supposed to love you again?" Catherine surmised in disbelief.

"Re-Birthing may not be a recognized therapeutic procedure. But it's not illegal!" Dr Sapien defended herself.

"Last time I checked, murder is," O'Riley retorted.

"I begged her to do it," Mrs Buckley said.

"All other methods of therapy had failed. Dylan was becoming more belligerent, withdrawn, even dangerous," Dr Sapien told them.

"I just wanted my son to love me. That's all," Mrs Buckley sobbed.

"Dylan was a willing participant," Dr Sapien added.

"He was 14!" O'Riley shot back, having a hard time believing that a mother would willing let someone do this to her kid just so their child could love her.

"I instructed Dylan to lie down on the floor in a foetal position. As part of the process, I asked him if he wanted to be reborn to his mother. He said yes," Dr Sapien began revealing what happened.

"So then what happened? Things got out of hand? He changed his mind?" Nick demanded, beginning to let the interrogation and confession get the best of him.

"Somewhere in the middle of an angora birth canal?" Catherine guessed.

_Began flashback_

"_It's time to be reborn!" Dr Sapien decreed as Dylan began to struggle inside the blanket, "That's it, Dylan! Push harder! Push harder! Harder!"_

"_Mum, stop it! I can't breathe!" Dylan gasped._

"_Push hard!" Dr Sapien encouraged as they beat Dylan all around the floor._

_"Mum, please just stop!" Dylan pleaded._

"_Do you want to be reborn or stay in there and die?" Dr Sapien asked._

"_Quit pushing on me! Please! Mom, please! I want this to stop!" Dylan cried._

"_Maybe we should…," Mrs Buckley trailed off._

_"No! This is what happens! We can't stop now!" Dr Sapien protested, "Trust me! This is the normal response!"_

_End flashback_

"I thought it was part of the process. She told me that that's what he's supposed to say. That babies don't wanna come out. That-that's why it's such an ordeal for the woman," Mrs Buckley stuttered.

"That's right," Dr Sapien murmured in agreement.

"So you pushed on him like a mother in labour?" Catherine surmised.

_Begin flashback_

"_Come on! Push harder!" Dr Sapien instructed._

"_No, mum! I can't breathe!" Dylan sobbed._

"_Push harder!" Dr Sapien cried as Dylan hit his head one last time, causing him to stop fighting, "That's it."_

_Dr Sapien and Mrs Buckley opened the blanket. To their horror, Dylan's eyes were closed. And he wasn't moving. And he wasn't unconscious._

_He was dead._

"_Dylan? Dylan? Honey?" Mrs Buckley murmured._

_End flashback_

"When we opened the blanket, his eyes were closed. I thought he was pretending to be asleep," Dr Sapien finished the tale.

"So much for your…therapy," Nick choked, his eyes brimming with tears, as he stormed out of the room with Catherine watching after him with worry in her eyes.

"And that's why we tried to hide it. We knew you wouldn't understand," Mrs Buckley said to Catherine.

* * *

"Twin moons of Venus," Warrick observed as he looked at the striations from the grounding prong and Ian's metal cutters respectively.

"Overlap to one," Grissom instruction.

"Striations match," Warrick announced.

"Wolf stuck a nail in Valenti's boot, compromised the drill and cut the grounding prong with his own cutters," Sara surmised.

"Seems like a lot of work to kill a guy," Warrick remarked.

"Not for an electrician. I'm gonna find Brass," Grissom said before going to leave.

"Hey, Gris!" Warrick called, causing Grissom to stop, "I think I can speak for both of us when I say I'm sorry that we let you down."

"We quit before we should have," Sara agreed.

"Yeah. You did," Grissom agreed before leaving.

"Mr Wolf, we got you for murder. Premeditated," Brass decreed as they found Ian at the construction site.

"You know this from my cutters?" Ian asked.

"They're just part of the story," Grissom said, "You spiked Roger's boot with the nail – compromised the insulation. You reversed the polarity in his drill. You cut the grounding prong, planted evidence and killed a man."

"You're under arrest," Brass proclaimed.

* * *

"Grissom!" Brian called after them as they escorted the handcuffed Ian to the police cars.

"It's all you, man," Brass muttered before leaving.

"Sheriff," Grissom greeted.

"You got the bad apple," Brian observed.

"Yeah, how about that? Just in time for my big public apology," Grissom remarked.

"I may be changing the tenor of that piece somewhat. You won't be the goat. But you won't be the hero either," Brian warned.

"Good. I'll leave that to you," Grissom said.

"That's why we will continue to work well together," Brian smirked before Grissom left, "Grissom!"


	4. Bully for You

**Bully for You: Everyone begins to think about what their personalities during their high school years when the class clown is discovered dead in the boy's bathroom at a local high school. However, Grissom, Warrick and Catherine soon discover that their victim bullied the majority of his fellow students, giving them a lot of suspects. Meanwhile, a badly decomposed body is found in a leather bag and Sara and Nick have to figure out who this person is and how they died.**

**Next, Scuba Doobie-Doo: A former tenant leaves behind a blood-splattered apartment, a missing girlfriend and an interesting investigation for Grissom, Warrick and Sara. Meanwhile, an urban legend could turn out to be fact as Catherine and Nick investigate the death of a scuba diver that was found on top of a tree after a forest fire.**

**Then, Alter Boys: What appears to be a clear-cut investigation still manages to baffle Grissom, Nick and Sara when a young man is caught burying a murder victim in the desert. Meanwhile, Warrick and Catherine have to work out what caused the death of a young woman in a hotel spa.**

**Later, Caged: When a book restorer is found dead in a locked library cage, Grissom and Nick find a very reliable witness in her autistic co-worker. Meanwhile, a young woman was killed when a train hit her car and Catherine and Sara have to work out how she ended up on the tracks when evidence shows she tried to stop.**

**Remaining episodes:**

**Slaves of Las Vegas (excited!)  
****And Then They Were None  
****Ellie  
****Organ Grinder  
****You've Got Male  
****Identity Crisis  
****The Finger  
****Burden of Proof  
****Primum Non Nocere  
****Felonious Monk  
****Chasing the Bus  
****Stalker (*shudder* Dreading that one…)  
****Cats in the Cradle  
****Anatomy of a Lye  
****Cross Jurisdictions (backdoor pilot to CSI: Miami)  
****The Hunger Artist**

**I own nothing aside from Kady.**

**ENJOY!**

* * *

"I'm telling you, man," Barry Schickle laughed as he and three other boys walked down the hallway.

"See ya, bro," his friend said.

"Later, losers," Barry smirked.

Along the way, after making sure that no one was watching, he took out a can of spray paint from his backpack and spray painted the word 'Stick' in orange on a particular locker. He appears to have done this a thousand times before.

Content with his daily vandalism, he decided to make a stop at the little boys room. However, he soon learned that this action would be a fatal mistake. As he unzipped his pants to do his business, he heard the familiar sound of a gun firing. He ducked the first shot, which shattered the mirror. However, the next three shots ripped right through his body from his back. He fell to the ground dead.

* * *

"Barry Schickel. Wallet's still with him. With cash. A student. Recently voted class clown," Brass said to Grissom as they walked into the bathroom.

"Strange. People aren't usually scared of class clowns," Grissom remarked.

"Who said the shooter was scared?" Brass asked.

"Shot him in the back," Grissom observed.

"With his zipper down and his hands otherwise engaged," Brass added.

"Yeah. We're looking for a coward," Grissom decreed.

Insert title credits here

Two people wheeling out Barry's body in a bag passed Warrick and Catherine who were just arriving. Warrick was being a gentleman and carrying both CSI kits while Catherine carried Kady, having stolen her from Nick the moment they got assigned the case.

"Hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you doing?!" Catherine demanded the janitor who was removing the graffiti from the locker Barry spray-painted before he died.

"Removing graffiti," the janitor answered.

"There's been a murder here. Nothing gets cleaned," Catherine told him.

"School policy, Miss. I have to get this graffiti down as soon as…," the janitor began to explain.

"Everything is evidence. Policy of the Las Vegas Crime Lab. Should we call the Sheriff?" Catherine challenged.

"No," the janitor grumbled.

"Thank you," Catherine said as the janitor packed up his cleaning tools and walked away.

"Bet you were like that in high school," Warrick remarked as they continued on.

"Worse," Catherine admitted.

"Oh, you were the girl I ran away from," Warrick recalled.

"Yeah. Till you caught me," Catherine smirked, causing Warrick and Kady to laugh.

* * *

"So you say that football practice was over at 5:45?" Brass asked.

"That's right," Principal Perrin nodded.

"And it was OK for a student like this victim to return to the school property to use the restroom. That wasn't out of the ordinary?" Brass wanted to double check.

"Hand me a bindle," Grissom requested, interrupting as he located the bullet.

Principal Perrin glanced at Grissom briefly in annoyance as he was handled a bindle before turning back to Brass, "Place isn't locked up till the janitor leaves end of his shift 8, 8:30. Until then, the kids at after-school events use the facilities."

"Brass," Grissom interrupted again as he removed the bullet.

"Excuse me. One of my students is dead. Are we interrupting you?" Principal Perrin asked in annoyance.

"Yeah. A little," Grissom answered.

"That's OK. I'll drop by your office. We'll finish it there," Brass said to Principal Perrin before he left, "You found a slug. So, the treasure hunt paid off, huh?"

"Yeah. It better. We have a point of reference," Grissom said as he placed a pink marker in the bullet hole in the wall.

"Well, the nerd squad is off and running. I'm gonna…uh…burn a little shoe leather and see whether the victim had a beef with anyone," Brass decided as he left the men's room.

* * *

"Rescue one over drop site. We have a visual, Baker One. Stand by for Eastern Approach. CSI. Ready for descent. You're good to go!" the pilot of the police rescue helicopter shouted to Nick and Sara as they prepared to rappel down towards a body.

"OK! There he is! Let's get down there!" Nick yelled as he and Sara threw their ropes down, "Ready?!"

"I'll race you!" Sara challenged.

The both of them smiled and began rappelling down towards the paramedic and the bag down below.

"_CSI is through the air. …CSI is on the ground._"

"Stokes! Sidle! Crime Lab. Did you open the bag?" Nick asked Hank Peddigrew.

"Only long enough to see one gnarly looking hand…well, skeleton of a hand," Hank answered as Nick knelt low to look at the bag, immediately reacting to the smell.

"Anyone touch the bag since?" Sara wanted to know.

"With that smell?" Hank retorted in disbelief.

"I thought you Emergency Service guys were tougher than that," Sara smirked.

"Hey. I'm plenty tough," Hank defended himself.

"Down, boy. It was a joke," Sara chuckled.

"Nothing like flirting over a D.B,' Nick laughed as he looked up with a large grin on his face, "You wanna airlift the body to the coroner's? We'll radio ahead."

"Sure," Hank nodded.

"Great," Sara smiled as she pulled out a knife and began to cut the handles off.

"Are you supposed to do that already?" Hank asked.

"Body coroner's. Property's ours," Sara clarified.

The helicopter began to lower down the hook and Nick grabbed the hook and attached it to the basket. No sooner than the basket was attached, it was lifted up into the helicopter and the helicopter departed, leaving Sara, Nick and Hank standing there.

"_We have the basket. Copy that. Rescue One returning to base._"

* * *

"Hi," Catherine greeted Grissom as she, Warrick and Kady walked into the men's room.

"Hey, alligator," Grissom greeted as he smiled and held her close to his side.

"Construction on Flamingo. I'm sorry," Warrick apologised.

"Give me a hand, will you?" Grissom asked Warrick.

"Yeah," Warrick nodded as he approached Grissom who was unravelling pink-coloured string, "A .38?"

".44," Grissom corrected, "Here. Take this."

"Brass said the victim had a can of spray paint, right?" Catherine asked as she noticed the orange smudged thumbprint on the bathroom stall.

"Orange, by my kit. It was in his backpack," Grissom answered as Catherine took a photo of the print and picked up the spray can, "Did you get something?"

"Paint from another source. I'm going to find out who belongs to that locker," Catherine sighed as she left, taking Kady with her.

"I'm starting to know how Nick feels," Grissom grumbled.

"Kind of weird being in a high school," Warrick remarked as he stood at the other side of the bathroom with the pink string Grissom gave him.

"They do have a timeless quality," Grissom smiled.

"What were you? A jock or a brain?" Warrick asked.

"I was a ghost," Grissom corrected, causing Warrick to laugh, "Here. Shooter was standing right there. And…?"

"Reconstruction guys can give us a more precise angle measurement, but I'm thinking…5"4, maybe 3," Warrick shrugged, "We got ourselves a shorty."

* * *

"Let's see what metal shows up," Nick suggested as he, Sara and David Phillips fed the bag through an x-ray machine, "Well, there's no gun on our dead body."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just unzip the bag and see what kind of shape our vic is in?" Sara asked.

"I like to put that off till the last possible moment with decomps," David confessed.

"I see a coin. Looks like a half dollar," Sara observed.

"Silver. Whole," David corrected, earning a look from Sara, "I've done a few of these."

"What's that? There. About four inches long. What is that?" Nick asked as he noticed a pin.

"It looks like a pin. It's a medical implant," David pointed out, "Oh, and that's a plate in the skull. The head's been rolled."

"I'd say we're dealing with a man," Sara guessed.

"Yeah. And by the sound of things, he's been dead about two months," David added.

"Sound?" Sara repeated, causing David to rustle the bag and Nick and Sara to hear a sloshing sound.

"You weren't here when ESD brought his in," David said.

"Well, it wasn't from lack of trying," Nick joked.

"Let's go to the V.I.P room. I'll show you what I mean," David suggested.

* * *

"That's Dennis Fram's locker," Julia Barrett identified as Catherine showed her the vandalised locker.

"And was this a first or has the deceased spray-painted his locker before?" Catherine asked.

"Look. I'm the school counsellor. I don't know every move these kids make," Julia protested.

"Well, that's obvious or a young man wouldn't be dead. Tell me what 'stick' means," Catherine requested.

* * *

"Is that a Polymor Sensor Proboscis?" Grissom asked.

"Cyranose 302. Company sent it to me. Gratis for a week. They figure if it helps, CSI will buy one," Warrick explained.

"Electronic noses run like ten grand," Grissom pointed out.

"Yeah, well…what if the shooter chews a certain kind of tobacco or has a unique halitosis and the e-nose picks up on it?" Warrick asked.

"If that thing ran out of here and bit the shooter in the ass, the county would not approve a $10000 purchase order," Grissom retorted.

"I thought it was our job to speak for the victim no matter what it took…and to hell with the budgets," Warrick protested.

"Our job is to think, Warrick. Machinery should never matter more than our mind. Try this…," Grissom trailed off as he handed Warrick an Erienmeyer flask, a tube with a rubber stopper and a pump (which he squeezed a few times), "Glass tube. Air pump."

"Air pump. Cost about ten bucks," Warrick remarked as Grissom went to leave the restroom, "Absorption agent?"

"Fresh out. Improvise," Grissom smirked before leaving.

* * *

"And Miss Barrett says that a Dennis Fram had been bullied by the deceased all year. He spray-painted his locker many times. Always something to do with his build. Skinny, shorty; that kind of thing," Catherine explained to Grissom as her and Julia in the hallway, protesting as Grissom took the sleeping Kady from her.

"Dennis is slight and Barry always picks on him for it," Julia added.

"Can you arrange for us to meet with Dennis?" Grissom asked.

"Of course," Julia nodded, "But he would never hurt Barry. He's a good kid. He's totally nonviolent."

"Well then this will be brief," Grissom remarked.

"We can call him from my office," Julia sighed as she approached her office.

"You coming?" Grissom asked Catherine.

"Oh, I'll catch up to you," Catherine promised before tracking down the janitor from before, "Hey. I need to talk to you."

"I didn't clean anything!" the guy immediately said.

"It's not about that," Catherine shook her head.

* * *

"How tall are you, Dennis?" Grissom asked.

"5"3…and one quarter," Dennis answered nervously as he glanced at Julia.

"Have you washed your hands in the last hour?" Grissom wanted to know.

"Yeah. Why?" Dennis wanted to know.

"Changed your shirt?" Grissom pressed.

"No," Dennis shook his head.

"I'd like to do a test on your shirt if I may," Grissom requested.

"What kind of test?" Dennis immediately demanded.

"Forensic," Grissom clarified.

Dennis had changed out of his shirt and into a white one that was provided for him. His blue shirt was hanging on a rack. Grissom sprayed some kind of liquid onto the shirt before placing the bottle back into his kit and spraying another kind of liquid over the previous liquid. Immediately, the shirt emitted a bright blue stain. That made Dennis nervous.

"What is that?" Dennis asked.

"GSR," Kady answered.

"When someone fires a weapon, gunshot residue plumes back onto their hands and clothing. This means that you fired a gun within the last three to six hours," Grissom clarified.

"Dennis…," Julia trailed off.

"The police are gonna wanna talk to you," Grissom warned.

* * *

"So you admit you fired a gun," Brass surmised as he joined the party sometime later.

"I was over at the shooting range on Desert Way," Dennis told Brass.

"So the same night that Barry Schickel was shot and killed, you were out taking target practice?" Brass repeated.

"I go every Monday night. You can ask my sister. She goes with me," Dennis said.

"Where's your gun?" Brass asked.

"I rent different ones there," Dennis answered.

"Did you ever rent a .44 caliber?" Grissom wanted to know.

"Sometimes," Dennis shrugged.

"I'm going to see my brother! Get out of the way!" Kelsey Fram snapped as she stormed in and knelt in front of Dennis, "Denny, are you OK? Got your call."

"I'm fine. I'm fine," Dennis reassured his frantic sister.

"We're conducting a police investigation here," Brass told her.

"My dad's back in town tonight and you'll be sorry you harassed my little brother," Kelsey swore.

"Questioned," Brass corrected, "A student was shot and killed in this building tonight."

Julia, deciding that this had gone on long enough, stood up and decided to intervene, "You know what? Dennis has explained to you about the gunpowder. And I am sure his sister will vouch for his whereabouts. And he's a minor."

"Jim," Grissom interrupted.

"We'll be in touch," Brass promised.

* * *

"Remember. Breathe through your mouth," David warned.

Nick and Sara nodded instantly. It was the big moment. The moment the bag would be opened. David knew what to expect, having done this a million times before. Nick and Sara on the other hand…David wouldn't be able to give them enough warnings so they'd know what to expect. When David opened the bag, they were immediately greeted by a horrid stench. David was able to breathe through his mouth. Nick and Sara were having trouble, immediately reacting to the stench.

"Metal plate," David said as he began removing the contents of the bag.

"Silver dollar," Sara added.

"Gambling chip," Nick grunted.

"And…," David trailed off as he pulled out a piece of clothing.

"Jacket. Government issue. Army," Nick observed, earning a grunt of disgust from Sara.

"Pile of bones and that's it," David surmised the contents.

"That's it? No organs? No-no tonsils? No…," Sara trailed off as David poured from the bag a thick, black…, "Soup?"

"Human…soup. Well, we are 73.5% liquid, eh, Dave?" Nick asked.

"Add some bacteria, a couple of gases and…voila!" David answered.

"OK. I'll take liquid man's jacket. See what I can find," Sara decided before turning away.

"I'll cremate this," David said.

"What if we find the family or they find us?" Nick protested.

"A decomp this bad can stink up the entire building…forever. The sooner we dispose of this, the better," David explained.

"Not for our investigation," Nick retorted.

* * *

Nick and Sara took in huge gulps of air as they stumbled out of the room into the hallway. Never before had they been thankful for fresh air. Both of them were carrying bags. Grissom and Kady happened to be walking past them.

"Let me guess. Decomp in an enclosed space?" Grissom guessed as he and Kady screwed their noses.

"Yeah," Sara nodded.

"In a zip bag," Nick added as his eyes watered a little bit.

"How gross was it?" Kady asked.

"On a scale of 1-10?" Nick wanted to know, earning an eager nod from Kady, "Oh, butterfly, it broke the scale!"

"Lemons," Grissom suddenly said.

"What?" Sara demanded.

"Use lemons," Grissom clarified as he pretended to squeeze lemons on Kady's head to prove his point.

* * *

"So how's your new toy?" Catherine asked as she walked into the men's bathroom.

"It's been downsized," Warrick grumbled.

"Bummer. I know how you wanted to see that thing work," Catherine remarked.

"Well, it's the same difference really," Warrick shrugged as he held up the flask now filled with crushed chalk, "Air is drawn into the glass tube. The chalk absorbs the chemicals from the air. And mass spec will break it down at the lab."

"So why did you need the expensive one in the first place?" Catherine wanted to know.

"'Cause it was school," Warrick answered.

Catherine smiled at that. Warrick had a point…even if he didn't say it. It didn't matter if they were the same age as Kady and Lindsey or the age they are right now. It's all about the cool toys.

"I'll see you in homeroom," Catherine said.

"Alright," Warrick nodded as Catherine left.

* * *

"Barry Schickel from the high school. Dug three of these .44s from his back. First one cracked his infraspinous fossa. Second one entered past the interior angle of the scapula. Punctured a lung. And the last one entered just right of the right anterior sarratus muscle…pierced the heart," Doc Robbins explained.

"The heart?" Grissom repeated.

"That makes no sense," Kady said.

"Nick's gonna kill you for bringing her here," Doc Robbins pointed out.

"What he doesn't know can't hurt him," Grissom shrugged.

"And this is a special case," Doc Robbins went on as he pointed to a four-holed scar on his body, "See the scar? This guy was attacked before. I'd say in the last six months."

"But not with a knife," Grissom said.

"It looks like prongs," Kady observed.

"Whatever it was, it would've killed him…if his heart had been there," Doc Robbins said.

"Where was his heart?" Grissom and Kady wanted to know.

"Barry's upper body? All his internal organs are on the opposite side of typical placement," Doc Robbins answered.

"Dextrocardia?" Grissom said in disbelief, "Like Dr No? That only presents in .01% of the nation?"

"Which was good for this guy," Doc Robbins piped in.

"Until his luck ran out," Kady added.

"How long ago did you say he was stabbed?" Grissom suddenly asked.

"Six months. Hand-to-hand combat. Sounds like something your suspect would do?" Doc Robbins guessed.

"No," Grissom and Kady shook their heads.

* * *

"Hey. How's Liquid Man doing?" Nick asked as he walked into the room.

"You mean Mr Cartsen?" Sara corrected as Nick slid on some gloves to assist her, "I found this. It's a nametag."

"You know, Sara, a lot of homeless guys get these army jackets cheap at salvage stores," Nick pointed out.

"Well, it's a start," Sara retorted, "I'm going to get homicide to check the VA medical database for a 'W. Cartsen' with plates or pins."

"OK," Nick nodded as he pulled out a matchbook and grunting in disgust at the stench.

"What do you got?" Sara wanted to know.

"I don't know. I can't read an address or a phone number," Nick struggled to say.

"God, it reeks!" Q.D should be able to, uh…to bring something up," Sara grunted.

She couldn't take it anymore. She turned around and knelt before the trash can behind her. Nick winced at the sound of Sara emptying her stomach. Slowly, he knelt next to her, held her hair out of the way and rubbed her back in soothing circles. He did this when Abby was pregnant with Kady and she suffered through horrible morning sickness. It didn't stop until she was heading towards her third trimester.

"Don't tell anyone," Sara moaned as she wiped her mouth and tried to regulate her breathing.

"About what?" Nick smirked as he offered a mint that he happened to have.

"Sara?" Hank asked as he walked into the room.

"Hi," Sara greeted as she took the mint Nick offered.

"They told me out front I could find you…here…," Hank trailed off as he realised what Nick and Sara were working on.

"Yeah. Um…I'll be right out," Sara nodded as she turned to Nick who was offering her his entire mint pack.

"You're gonna need more than one," Nick laughed.

"Shut up," Sara grumbled as she grabbed the pack and joined Hank outside in the hallway, "This is a nice surprise."

"I wanted to see if you'd like to have dinner," Hank said.

"Yeah. Um…when?" Sara asked.

"Now. I'm on break," Hank said.

"Oh, well, I'm in the middle of that DB from the gully. He's still a John Doe and we don't know the circumstances…," Sara stopped taking as she noticed the way Hank was acting around her, "I smell."

"No…well…not that bad," Hank said.

"I changed clothes. Though the problem is that it's human fat reduced and it's attached itself to my follicles and my pores, so…," Sara again stopped talking as Hank shifted uncomfortably, "You don't look good."

"I need to get some air," Hank grunted.

"OK," Sara said as she went to follow.

"Uh, no. You-you stay. Uh, you've got that John Doe to worry about and, uh...well, I can always stop by another time," Hank remarked.

"Right. OK," Sara smiled as Hank ran out of there, "Bye!"

"You smell like death," Greg whispered to Sara as he walked past her…only to walk back.

"I've heard," Sara said.

"You know…a real man wouldn't mind," Greg smirked as he continued down the hallway…not without stealing Kady that happened to be nearby.

* * *

"Have you talked to Barry's parents?" Julia asked Grissom as they walked through the school grounds.

"I did. They had no idea he'd been stabbed," Grissom answered.

"The older kids get, the less they talk to their parents," Julia remarked.

"They talk to you though, right? The guidance counsellor? Who else may have had it in for Barry Schickel?" Grissom wanted to know.

"Look. He was very popular and he was a bully. So there was probably a dozen kids who wanted to see him dead," Julia said to him.

"Really?" Grissom pressed.

* * *

"I'd be walking by and…he would punch me. Everybody started calling me 'flinch'…even the teachers," Bram muttered the last part.

"He was the meanest guy I've ever known. But the way he put you down, it sounded funny. If it wasn't you," Alan told them.

"He'd wait for me everyday. Lunch time. Fourth period. Take my food…until I fixed him. It was about half a year ago, I went at him," Dylan recalled happily.

"With a fork? Stabbed him above his left pectoral," Grissom said.

"Yeah. It still didn't stop him. I mean, today was the first day I could come to school and not feel like a moving target," Dylan said.

"Where were you last night about 6:00?" Grissom wanted to know.

"When Barry was shot?" Dylan laughed before looking down at his hands, "Boxing practice."

"OK. Thanks," Grissom said before Dylan left.

"I can protect them from being called a derogatory word for homosexual or the n-word. Everything else falls under free speech," Julia sighed.

"No one's blaming you," Grissom reassured her.

"I am," Julia whispered.

"You know who did this, don't you?" Grissom asked.

"You have no idea what these kids go through. I listen to them everyday. Divorce, working parents…cliques. And all they need is just one person to believe in them," Julia told him.

"Yeah. But where does that leave Barry Schickel?" Grissom demanded.

"That's your job," Julia shrugged.

* * *

"Shut up! She was not!" Nick exclaimed in disbelief.

"I saw her in action," Warrick said.

"Really?" Nick pressed as he watched Kady do her homework on his lap.

"Yeah. She was," Warrick nodded.

"Catherine?!" Nick exclaimed.

"I was what?" Catherine asked as she walked into the break room.

"I was just telling Nick how you were a big bully in high school," Warrick explained.

"She's not a bully. Billy Bob's one," Kady protested.

"Does Billy Bob pick on you?" Nick immediately asked.

"A bully? Alright. I guess I was. But I mean, not the kind that people want to take a gun out and shoot," Catherine confessed.

"No," Warrick shook his head.

"No, no. You were the kind that guys fall all over themselves trying to impress," Nick chuckled.

"Like you, Nick, huh?" Catherine smirked, "Oh, Nick…what were you in high school?"

"Me? I was, uh…I was dependable," Nick answered.

"Dependable," Catherine repeated, earning a hum from Nick, "Dependable jock? Dependable stoner?"

"No. Never a strap. Never a smoker. Just all-around dependable guy, I guess," Nick shrugged.

"What Nick's trying to say he was unpopular," Warrick laughed.

"I was popular with the right people. I can tell you that. I can also tell you what I wasn't. I wasn't a mac daddy wannabe with a Members Only jacket putting his swerve on all the ladies," Nick retorted.

"What was wrong with those Members Only jackets? They were kind of cool back in the day!" Warrick defended.

"Oh yeah? Well which one of us was able to get married and have a kid?" Nick shot back, causing Warrick to go quiet.

"Hey, Nick. Ronnie's got something on Liquid Man. Says it's hot," Sara announced.

"Good," Nick nodded as he stood up and kissed Kady on the temple before setting her on the couch with her homework, "I'll be back in a minute, baby."

"Hey, Sara. What were you in high school?" Warrick asked.

"Science nerd," Sara answered as Nick walked past her.

"You changed," Nick observed before leaning close and whispering, "But you still smell. Let's go!"

"So that leaves you, Warrick. What were you?" Catherine wanted to know.

"Oh, I was short. I had big feet. Thick glasses," Warrick recalled.

"You?" Catherine repeated in shock.

"Yeah. I got pushed around by all the guys and never got any play from the girls…," Warrick remembered his high school days.

"The girls didn't even notice your eyes?" Catherine asked in disbelief.

"No. They used to tease me about my eyes. Called me names," Warrick revealed.

"Aww… Well what do they know? They're your best feature," Catherine complimented.

"I didn't have a best feature in high school. Looking back on it now, I can say I could see both sides of it thinking about this guy Barry Schickel and how he was shot and whichever kid did it. I'm not saying it was right. But I kinda understand, you know?" Warrick confessed.

"Yeah," Catherine nodded.

* * *

"I wanted to hold off on this matchbook until it dried out. But then I realized…," Ronnie trailed off.

"Human fat never dries out. It just gets waxy," Nick finished.

"Exactly. What I'm doing is adding pixels at some points and erasing pixels at other points," Ronnie began explaining as he did so, "Got it.

"Roma…roman…nini's…," Sara read, "Never heard of it."

"I have. Nightclub for boomers off The Strip," Nick said, "Thanks, man."

"You bet," Ronnie responded as Nick and Sara left.

* * *

"Hey, Stokes. Your W. Cartsen?" Detective O'Riley began after he approached Nick and Sara in the hallway.

"Yeah?" Nick said.

O'Riley handed him a file as he began explaining, "He's a second lieutenant William Cartsen. Served in the war, wounding in action. Got sent stateside after they put him back together. They put a pin in his spine and a plate in his head 31 years ago. Walked out of the hospital. Hasn't been heard from since."

"OK. Come with us," Nick requested.

* * *

"What's the matter? You don't trust me?" Warrick asked Grissom as he noticed him standing there watching him work.

"I trust you," Grissom said.

The printer printed the results from the tests and Warrick didn't hesitate to read them out, "I got a boatload of chemical components here. Marijuana, bubble bum, cigars. It's like every guy's bathroom in America."

"What doesn't belong?" Grissom asked rhetorically before leaving.

* * *

"How can I help you people?" the manager of Romanini's asked as he met O'Riley, Nick and Sara at the entrance of the nightclub.

"Valet guy said you're the manager. Detective O'Riley. Las Vegas P.D. Stokes and Sidle from the Crime Lab," O'Riley introduced himself.

"Crime Lab? What's going on?" he wanted to know.

"This man a patron of your establishment? Name's William Cartsen," O'Riley said as he handed the manager a photo.

"Not that I recognize. No," he shook his head.

"Are you sure you haven't seen him around here? Wore an army jacket? Might've been down on his luck?" Nick asked.

"Oh you mean Moses," the manager recalled.

"Moses?" Nick repeated in confusion.

"Yeah. Guy had a beard down to here, wore a robe, the army jacket. Stood out here scaring every patron I had. Guy was ruining my business," the manager explained.

"So what'd you do?" O'Riley asked.

"I tried to reason with him. That's the last I saw of him," the manager told them.

"When was that?" Sara wanted to know.

"I don't know. About two months ago," he shrugged.

"That's funny. We found his body. Coroner says he's been dead two months," Sara explained.

"We're gonna want you to take a little ride with us," O'Riley said.

"OK," the manager shrugged.

* * *

"I checked out those kids you talked to. None of them was even near the school when Barry Schickel was killed," Brass announced as he walked into the lab, "The only one who doesn't check out is Dennis Fram."

"There's a reason. I can put him at the crime scene. Jim, can you call them from the car?" Catherine asked.

"Sure. Let's go," Brass nodded as he left.

"Put him there how?" Grissom wanted to know.

"Oh…well. I'll explain on the way," Catherine said.

"No, no. I'm gonna stay here…with this. Close to Warrick," Grissom shook his head.

"OK. But you'll miss all the fireworks," Catherine warned as she left.

* * *

"I know I must sound like the typical parent. But my son had nothing to do with the death of that Schickel boy," Mr Fram said.

"We've placed him at the murder," Catherine decreed.

"What?" Mr Fram demanded.

"Here's the fingerprint I recovered from Dennis' locker. These are Dennis' prints on file at school – the Missing Kids Prevention Drive. There's a match," Catherine explained.

"Well, his own fingerprints on his own locker. That doesn't prove anything," Mr Fram promised.

"Proves a timeline. The alkyd particles in the victim's spray paint adhere and dry in 30 seconds. Oxidation. Dennis had to have swiped the paint within seconds of Barry putting it on his locker for his print to take," Catherine explained.

"Well, how do you know?" Mr Fram asked.

"The janitor," Catherine answered as she showed Mr Fram a graffiti log the janitor fills out, "He keeps timed records of graffiti. Job security. And Dennis left paint on the door jam in the bathroom where Barry was shot."

"That's the timeline of the murder, Mr Fram. We know every move your son made up until the gun. That's why we wanna see your collection. You're registered as having two dozen weapons?" Brass asked.

"Denny?" Kelsey said as she walked in carrying drinks and noticed her brother in the middle of a panic attack.

"Ow…," Dennis moaned.

"It's OK. It's OK. Come on. We'll fix it," Kelsey promised as she helped Dennis out of the room and Catherine followed.

* * *

"This…this does not belong in a guy's bathroom," Warrick decreed to Grissom, "Can we prove this? I mean, there's got to be a thousand different brands of this stuff out there!"

"You still got that $10000 e-nose you were using?" Grissom asked.

"Oh. Now you want my tricked-out toy," Warrick grumbled.

"I just want the software," Grissom corrected, causing Warrick to hand it over to him.

* * *

Catherine watched from the doorway to the bathroom as Kelsey took care of her little brother. She held a spoonful of medicine near Dennis' mouth as she tried to coax him to swallow it.

"Come on. Drink up. Here you go. Good. Just hold this to your face, OK? I'll be right back," Kelsey promised as she handed him a cold towel and approached Catherine in the doorway, "He's got a bleeding ulcer from being bullied by Barry Schickel. You don't know how hard it was for him every morning trying to work up the courage just to go to school. I thought my little brother was going to kill himself."

"And then someone killed Barry," Catherine said.

"Yeah," Kelsey nodded.

"How tall are you?" Catherine suddenly asked.

"5"4…with heels. Why?" Kelsey demanded.

"No reason," Catherine shrugged.

* * *

"You grabbed a top note of "floral" and now we ask the software to break it into ingredients. Do you recognize any of these?" Grissom asked as he gestured to the graph on the computer.

"That's all from one perfume?" Warrick said in disbelief.

"Some of these perfumes have, like, 750 ingredients," Grissom pointed out before they obtained the results, "Chanteuse."

"We can narrow it down to one brand?" Warrick asked excitedly.

"Yeah. The original application for this program was perfume companies. You know, testing new brands, stealing from the competition," Grissom explained before answering his phone, "Grissom."

* * *

"Grissom, we got a suspect. But it's not who you think," Catherine announced.

"_Let me guess. Denny Fram's sister?_"

"How did you know?" Catherine demanded.

"_Vapor molecules. See if you can get a warrant for her perfume and have Brass bring her in._"

"Her perfume?" Catherine repeated in confusion.

* * *

"Let's get back to my first question, Miss Fram. Where were you the night Barry Schickel was killed?" Brass asked.

"I told you. I was out driving around," Kelsey answered.

"So what? Your perfume just wafted into the boys' room all the way from Highway 10?" Brass guessed in disbelief.

"Yes. I wear Chanteuse. What's that got to do with anything? My mum used to wear it and… After her car accident, I started to wear it," Kelsey admitted.

"Well, aromas have fingerprints. They're like a unique combination of vapour molecules that linger in the air, long after the source has gone," Warrick explained.

"We isolated a combination in the restroom where Barry Schickel was shot. It matches your perfume," Grissom decreed.

"A high-end woman's perfume. It's doubtful that any other girl at the school wears it," Catherine pointed out.

"Wait, wait, wait… She has no reason to hurt Barry Schickel," Mr Fram protested.

"What about revenge for her little brother?" Catherine retorted.

"I can't believe this. That bastard Schickel dogged my family. Now he's doing it from the grave. Come on, Kelsey," Mr Fram said as he and Kelsey stood up and left…but not without Mr Fram turning around towards Grissom, Catherine and Brass and saying to them, "You come near us again, you do it through my lawyer."

"Wears her dead mother's perfume. Nice touch," Catherine remarked.

"Might be true. Scent triggers memory more acutely than any of the five senses," Grissom stated.

"Yeah? Well, I smell a rat in the Fram family," Catherine proclaimed.

* * *

"So you didn't hurt him. You just put him in your car. Is that what you're saying?" Sara asked.

"Back seat. Then I drove him out of town. I left him on the side of the road out by Red Rock," the manager repeated what he had said earlier.

"You didn't maybe zip him up in a bag because he was giving you trouble? Anything like that?" Nick asked.

"No," the manager laughed.

"These….are the handles from the bag he was found in. You see these prints in there?" Sara asked as she showed him the photos of the handles they cut from the bag when they first found it.

"Can I see your right hand, sir?" Nick requested as he held out a fingerprint machine.

"Look. He was drunk. He was rolling all over my backseat. So I put him in a bag from my trunk. Once we got out of town, I just tipped him down the hill. I figured he'd get out once he slept it off. The guy always shows up," the manager finally confessed to his crimes, "What am I looking at?"

"Homicide," O'Riley answered.

"Look. I was just doing my job," the manager defended his actions.

"Hey. Treating another human being like garbage is not a job. It's a choice," Nick retorted as he and Sara left the room.

Normally, after a case, they would be relieved that the guy had been caught and the family of the victim could finally have some closure after spending a certain amount of time wondering what happened and why it happened to them. But since the case has finally come to an end, they were more than relived.

They were happy.

But it wasn't over yet.

* * *

"Paperwork. Later," Warrick left after he, Grissom and Catherine saw Dennis in the hallway at the police department.

"Dennis?" Catherine greeted in surprise.

"I need to talk to you," Dennis announced.

* * *

"You have to understand. Anything my sister did was to protect me," Dennis said.

"You said that you went back to the high school that night after target practice," Grissom recalled what Dennis told him earlier.

"I forgot a book I needed for homework. And I knew Barry had been there. My dad's freaking out. My sister won't come out of her room. I figured if you can get the police to make some kind of deal for her…," Dennis trailed off.

"Well, Dennis, you haven't told us that you explicitly saw Kelsey shoot the victim," Catherine pointed out.

"She was in a stall. I couldn't see her," Dennis said.

"Can I, uh…can I talk to you for a minute?" Brass asked as he entered the room.

"Excuse us," Grissom said as he and Catherine left the room to speak with Brass.

"He copping to anything?" Brass asked.

"He says his sister did it," Catherine answered.

"I don't think so. Kelsey was 'otherwise indisposed.' She got a parking ticket at the same time the vic was shot in an alley behind a motel off Fremont Street. In fact, a lot of cars got tickets that night," Brass announced as they read the parking tickets.

"Who's Jeremy Spencer?" Grissom wanted to know.

"Football coach," Brass told them.

"Oh. At a motel with the high school coach. No wonder she wouldn't talk," Catherine remarked.

"Well, I paid coach a visit. The guy's 23. Just got engaged. I mean, he'll testify to anything as long as his fiancé doesn't find out. He says that Kelsey gave him a roll in the hay. Asked him to intercede with Barry-the-bully and get the kid to leave her little brother alone. She didn't kill anyone," Brass explained.

"So why is he saying she did?" Catherine pondered.

"Do you ever smell a fart and end up blaming the wrong guy?" Grissom asked before he and Catherine returned to the room, "Why do you think your sister shot Barry?"

"Because," Dennis shrugged.

"Because why?" Grissom pressed.

"'Cause of the last time he beat me up," Dennis answered.

_Begin flashback_

_Dennis was knelt over the toilet emptying his stomach. It was another horrible day at school. Another day with Barry. And the more he had to go to school, the more sicker he felt. And…he wasn't sure he could take it anymore._

_As Kelsey watched from the doorway, she had decided that enough was enough. It had to end. She was afraid that if it didn't stop soon, Dennis would end up doing something he'd regret. Maybe even hurt herself. And she certainly couldn't take watching her little brother suffer anymore._

_So when she walked across the threshold and knelt beside the toilet to comfort her little brother, she whispered a promise._

_A promise she intended to keep._

_Whatever it takes._

"_I'll protect you. I'll fix things so he never comes near you again."_

_End flashback_

"She always keeps her word," Dennis said.

"She asked Barry's coach to help you. That was her protection plan. She was nowhere near the high school that night," Grissom revealed.

"I smelled her perfume. I saw Barry. I saw the gun. And I smelled her perfume," Dennis protested.

"No. You smelled her brand of perfume," Grissom corrected.

"But then, who was it?" Dennis immediately wanted to know.

* * *

"We recovered this from your townhouse on a warrant. Chanteuse," Grissom told Julia as he placed the photos of a perfume bottle and a gun on her desk, "We also found the gun. It hasn't been cleaned."

"Well, I don't know how to clean a gun. That was my husband's," Julia clarified.

"You know how to shoot one," Grissom retorted.

"Do you know how many kids go to school and kill just to get relief from the bullying?" Julia asked, "You talked to them. Boxing lessons and target practice. How long before one of them came in here and opened fire on a hallway full of kids, huh? I just thought that one life was better than 20…or 30."

"Or 11," Grissom corrected as he opened a file and read the information contained within, "Captain Brass ran a search on you. Tetrick High School, Tetrick, Arizona. Eleven kids shot a few days after Columbine. You were the Assistant Principal."

"I watched them die at my feet. Just because some sophomore couldn't take the jokes about his glasses," Julia recalled.

"It says that you were left with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. You might wanna mention that to your lawyer," Grissom advised.

"I did this for my kids," Julia whispered.

"You know, Miss Barrett, as difficult as high school can be for kids, eventually, it's over…but too soon for Barry Schickel," Grissom said.

* * *

As soon as Sara was able to leave, one of the first things she did was stop at the shop to grab lemons. When she arrived home, she took with her to the bathroom some clean clothes and the lemons she brought. When she was in the shower, she took Grissom's advise. She squeezed the lemon juice all over her body, hoping to get rid of the smell of decomp.

Normally, when shift was over, one of the first things Nick and Kady would do is go home or go out for ice cream. However, there was something he wanted to do first. He glanced at the form that he held in front of him.

_**TRANSFER TO CITY CEMETERY ORDER FOR RELEASE**_

_**TO: Sheriff-Coroner**_

_**Order for release of the body of: 2**__**nd**__** Lt. William Cartsen**_

_**Coroner: ROBBNS**_

_**Date: 09/20/01**_

_**Case #**_

_**Case Reported: Date 09/18/01 Time: 0830**_

_**Decedent Data**_

_**Name: 2**__**nd**__** Lt. William Cartsen**_

_**Date of Birth: 2/6/49**_

_**Sex: M**_

"Rest in peace, Lieutenant. Rest in peace," Nick whispered.

* * *

As for Grissom, he was filling out a purchase of requisition form concerning the e-nose Warrick wanted to use during the case.

It did come in handy.


	5. IMPORTANT NOTICE

_**Dear readers,**_

_**I have bad news that I do not want to break. But it has to be done Due to lack of inspiration for this story, difficulty in writing further due to other reasons and I don't like making you guys waiting so long for an update if I can help it…**_

_**I have decided to put this story up for adoption.**_

_**This is the hardest decision that I have ever had to make. I am so sorry. But I do not want to see a way around this. If you are interested in taking over, please let me know via PM.**_

_**Also, if this story is part of a series such as my plans for Loonatics Unleashed, please let me know if you want to take over the whole series or just that story. But if you just want to take over that one story, please help me find someone else who would be more than happy to write the series.**_

_**Also, please let me know if you wish to just continue on from where I left off or rewrite the entire story completely so I can decide whether or not to delete the story from my account.**_

_**I hope someone would be able to continue my story and give you guys closure. For those who take over, please know that if you ever reach a hard time with the story, I am available for consultations.**_

_**I will post another notice on this story to let you know who will be taking over my story. But aside from that notice, there will be no more posts for this story.**_

_**Please know that I am so sorry and I never wanted it to come down to this. But I didn't see another way. I want this story to be continued. But I just can't do it. I would like to thank you all for standing by me and being so patient (mostly).**_

_**If you would like to see more of my work, please feel free to visit my profile and feel free to read the other stories that are safe from adoption.**_

_**I hope that someone will take over for this story and that they will do it justice and it will be amazing.**_

_**Yours sincerely,**_

_**IceGirl2772**_


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